


The Quiet Boy

by juststella



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Mentions of a person with a hearing disability, Mild Language, Minor Character Deaths, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Dark Days are over, There are no reapings here, everlark, extra marital affair, mentions of child abuse, mentions of muteness, prejudices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16404656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juststella/pseuds/juststella
Summary: The idea for this story popped in my head a little while ago and after giving it some consideration and talking it over with my dear friend Shannon17, I thought...yeah, let's do this!My thanks to my beta Shannon17 @sunsetsrmydreams (on tumblr) for her never-ending support and guidance. I also need to thank her for the title of this story. Out of all the possible titles I jotted down (there were a few), it was Shannon who came up with 'The Quiet Boy'.Just remember, Everlark happiness is the endgame (as it should be). I hope you enjoy the story. :)I don't own The Hunger Games but geez I wished I did!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story popped in my head a little while ago and after giving it some consideration and talking it over with my dear friend Shannon17, I thought...yeah, let's do this!
> 
> My thanks to my beta Shannon17 @sunsetsrmydreams (on tumblr) for her never-ending support and guidance. I also need to thank her for the title of this story. Out of all the possible titles I jotted down (there were a few), it was Shannon who came up with 'The Quiet Boy'. 
> 
> Just remember, Everlark happiness is the endgame (as it should be). I hope you enjoy the story. :)
> 
> I don't own The Hunger Games but geez I wished I did!

**~Jacob Mellark~**

The icy wind chills my bones but I trudge through the dark grey slush that covers the street. The tattered blanket I took from the wooden crate he was sleeping on is wrapped around him tightly, but his tiny body still shivers from the cold air. I unbutton my coat and wrap him inside pressing him gently to my chest hoping my own body heat will be enough to keep him warm until I can get him home.

 

With his blonde curls fluttering in the wind and deep blue eyes that resemble my own, he stares at me in confusion. He doesn’t know who I am. A stranger that came and took him from that horrible place.

 

“It’s alright Peeta, I’m your daddy.” He sucks his thumb and buries his head inside my coat not uttering a sound of discontent nor whimper.

 

As was his mother, my son is silent.

 

“Are you sure you can convince your wife to accept him into your little family Mr Mellark?” A voice snaps me back from my thoughts. I almost forgot about the newly appointed caretaker who insisted on coming with me today.

 

“I’ll convince her.” I must.

 

As we reach the Merchant side of District 12, I hold onto Peeta tightly and walk as quickly as I can without being noticed. I don’t want Peeta exposed to the prejudices that still exists within our district. To her credit, the caretaker keeps up with my hurried stride and when we finally reach the bakery, a relieved sigh escapes us both.

 

The bakery closed an hour ago and Agnes would have collected Ryan from school and is most likely helping him with his homework upstairs. So, we walk around the back of the bakery and enter through the kitchen. There’s still enough heat from the ovens to warm the chill from our bones so we make sure to stand directly in front of them to absorb as much heat as we can. 

 

Noticing today’s left-over lunch still on the stove, I turn on the hotplate and when the pot begins to simmer, ladle some of the broth in two bowls. Handing a warmed bowl over to a grateful caretaker, I begin to spoon feed some from the other bowl to Peeta. As I watch him take small mouthfuls of the warmed liquid, my mind wonders. _How long has it been since your last hot meal_?  

 

It’s not long before I hear the unmistakable footsteps coming down from the stairs. Agnes walks into the kitchen and looks directly at the small bundle in my arms.  

 

“I thought I made it clear not to bring it into my house…and now your feeding it our food!”

 

The young caretaker lowers her bowl, placing it on the bench and gestures with her hands to take Peeta from me. She knows this should be a private conversation between my wife and I and doesn’t want Peeta any more frightened than he already is. But he turns his head away burying it deep into my neck shaking, but not from the cold.

 

“He has a name Agnes. It’s Peeta.” I say in retort to her venomous tongue.

 

“I don’t care what your whore named her brat, you get him out of my house this instant Jacob Mellark!”

 

For too long I have kept quiet. The dutiful son and husband who always did what was best for everyone…except for himself. But my conscious won’t allow me to back into a corner, not this time. Not if it means leaving my innocent son at the mercy of the cruel circumstances in which he was born.

 

“You are forgetting this is my house too and I worked hard to rebuild it and the bakery from scratch to provide for you and Ryan.”

 

I shuffle Peeta in my arms gently and he burrows closer knowing instinctively to fear this hateful woman. It strengthens my resolve.

 

“For God sake, he’s my son! He should never have been in the Community Home to begin with. I won’t take him back there…I-I won’t!”

 

Images of that place flash in my mind. Walking through those dark halls in my desperate search for Peeta. The hollow faces of those children, forgotten casualties of the war, will haunt me for the rest of my days. So many of them were left orphaned or abandoned after we were liberated from President Snow’s tyrannical empire, but freedom always comes at a price.

 

At my outburst, Agnes turns red with fury. “Ryan is your son! That is your bastard!”

 

The way she directs that word towards Peeta has me seething with so much contempt towards her that I fear my emotions will spill out and I’ll say things I should have said to her years ago. But Peeta isn’t the only innocent victim here, I have Ryan’s welfare to consider too.

 

“No! I kept my end of the bargain and stayed away from Flora and I have to live with that regret.” I couldn’t give Flora my name but Peeta is my son and I won’t turn my back on him again. “I don’t care what you or the other gossipers say. He is staying right here.”

 

Her face darkens with anger. “You didn’t even hide that fact that you were sneaking behind my back to be with that woman! And now you think because she’s dead that I will allow you to bring your mistake to live with us! Well, you figured wrong! Like I told the old woman, the Community Home is the best place for him. He’s damaged just like his mother was.” 

 

“You knew all this time…you knew where he was, and you said nothing!” At the harsh tone of my voice, Peeta shudders in my arms and I instinctively rub his back to calm him.

 

Agnes is silent, her mouth stays tight-lipped, but I can see her guilt through that stone-face.

 

“Maybe I should come back in the morning when you and Mrs Mellark have come to an agreement.” The caretaker utters as she shifts uncomfortably on the stool. She’s been regrettably caught in the middle of our argument, but her suggestion to leave does nothing to deter Agnes.

 

“Yes, I knew! That whore’s mother had the audacity to come to the bakery begging me to take in that brat. There was no way I wanted a germ-infected defect in my home. I have Ryan’s health to think of. The Community Home is the best place for a worthless child like him.”

 

I hold myself back, if not for Peeta in my arms I don’t know what I would do to Agnes right now. Her threatening words from long ago creep into my mind.

 

_“You are such a fool Jacob. You think I didn’t know about you and that woman. Maybe I should have a little chat with the Head Peacekeeper and tell him that she’s been selling herself and the father of her child is one of the peacekeepers she regularly services. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t take too kindly to prostitution. She’ll be taken into custody and shipped straight to The Clinic before spending time in prison. Maybe that will help you remember where your responsibility lies.”_

 

_Knowing Agnes would make good on her threat, I didn’t dare call her bluff. For the sake of Flora and my unborn child, I kept my distance. Even when Peeta was born, he was 3 months old before I got to hold him. I still remember how anxious I was at our first chance meeting. Flora became weakened after giving birth and she never fully recovered. It was my friend Lydia Everdeen, the town healer, who brought him to me when Agnes took Ryan to the playground._

_Lydia had only just given birth a few weeks back and snuck him in the same baby carriage as her newborn daughter. A dark-haired gem who slept peacefully alongside my son. The feeling of finally holding him for the first time and seeing a version of myself looking back at me is something I will always hold dear._

_“He can hear Jacob. Talk to him. Let him hear the sound of your voice.”_

_The tears begin to well in my eyes as I look down at my boy and tell him I much I love him and his mother and wished that I could have been there when he was born. Knowing this precious time with him is almost at an end, I tell him how I wished I could freeze this moment._

_Lydia reaches into the baby carriage and brings out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to me. It’s a legal document bearing the new insignia of our government. A golden Mockingjay holding an arrow in its beak was the symbol of the revolution and it serves as a stark reminder of the sacrifices so many made for our freedom._

_“I’ve put it off as long as I could, but his birth needs to be properly registered. I’ve completed Flora’s details as birth mother, but I wanted to give you the choice to complete the rest. He needs a name.”_

_Carefully handing my son into Lydia’s arms, I see the two questions left blank._

_“The Mellark men have a tradition that dates back when it comes to the naming our sons. Our middle name is that of our father.” I tell her, grabbing a pen from my pocket._

**_Infant’s name:     Peeta Jacob Mellark_ **

**_Father’s name:    Jacob Samuel Mellark_ **

****

_Lydia smiles as she reads what I have named my son before folding the paper and tucking it back into the baby carriage._

_“We should go before your wife returns. I’ll go to the Justice Building in the morning and register Peeta’s birth.”_

_Before she left, I placed a heart-shaped cookie in a small brown paper bag and handed it to her._

_“Will you give this to Flora? She’ll know what it means.”_

_After that day, rare trips to the market were the only times I could steal a fleeting glance at both Flora and Peeta. The moment Flora saw me, she would smile sweetly then discreetly raise our son higher over her shoulder, so I could see his face. He was growing so fast. Flora was noticeably pale and thinner with each passing week, but she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on._

 

_When the sickness came to our district a year later, it spread so fast that we were all placed under strict quarantine until the crisis was over. The vaccines finally arrived from the Capitol but were too late to help Flora. My mourning for the only woman I have ever loved was done in private. There were no funerals. The dead were cremated, and their ashes buried in mass pits to stop the spread of infection._

 

_After receiving word of Flora’s death, I risked everything and went to her house to claim Peeta, but I failed him too. Her mother told me he had succumbed to the same illness. My whole world died with them._

 

_But that all changed this morning when Lydia came rushing into the bakery, trying to catch her breath in between her frantic words._

 

_“Flora’s mother…dead...early this morning.”_ _Lydia took a few deep breaths then continued. “Wanted to clear her conscious before she died. She kept him, but the Community Home caretaker stepped in when she heard the old woman could no longer care for Peeta. I had to be sure first, but I found him Jacob! Peeta…he’s alive!”_

_There was no need for further explanation. Agnes began yelling in the background, but I paid her no mind as I frantically rushed out of the bakery only remembering at the last minute to grab my coat from the hook by the door. I hadn’t even bothered to remove my flour-dusted apron as I followed Lydia to the path that led to the Community Home._

My eyes refocus on Agnes as she eyes us menacingly, continuing her tirade.

 

“Have you once thought about Ryan in all this? How are you going to explain to him when he gets older that you had an affair with the town mute? That you fathered a bastard with her? All this because you couldn’t keep it in your pants! I doubt he is even yours.”

“I have always thought about Ryan and you can say whatever you like about me but don’t talk about Flora that way! She wasn’t like that and you know it. You only have to look at Peeta to know he’s mine.”

 

Agnes and I haven’t been intimate…not in a long time. Not since the day she told me she was pregnant with Ryan. I should have known, been more careful. Our marriage was anything but real and that’s when I finally saw it for the trap it truly was.

The realisation drove me out into the streets, wandering, lost. That was the day I met Flora and felt my heart flutter for the first time. On that rainy day, I knew there would be no turning back.

 

“All women from the Seam are like that. Nothing’s changed. You were so blind-sided by a pretty face and perky breasts that you couldn’t see what a laughing stock you were. Your mother would be turning in her grave. I did you a favour.” She says matter-of-factually.

 

“No Agnes. We both know you did it for your own selfish reasons!”

 

There’s a cold silence in the room before I hear the caretaker speak again. For the second time today, I had forgotten her presence.

 

“Mrs Mellark, are you aware the Capitol has introduced a monthly stipend to families willing to adopt and care for an orphan? Even though Mr Mellark is Peeta’s natural father, you would still be entitled to make a claim.”

 

News of this piques Agnes’ interest and she becomes deep in thought. “How much of a stipend are we talking about?”

 

“10 coins a month!” I practically shout.

 

I look to the caretaker with pleading eyes and hope she doesn’t give me away. She told me about the new Government’s ‘Adopt an Orphan’ scheme for those unfortunate children left in the system and how much eligible couples would receive, but I have good reason why I don’t want Agnes to get a hold of all the money.

 

I failed Flora in every way possible, but I intend to honour her memory and do all I can for our son. The payments will stop as soon as Peeta turns 18 and who knows what Agnes will do when the money dries up. I need to secure a future for him should anything happen to me and a small savings set aside is a start.

 

“The Capitol will pay 10 coins a month directly to you. I can make all the arrangements once the Justice Building opens for business in the morning. I have associates who will expedite your claim and forego the usual red-tape.” The caretaker informs us with a straight face and I am thankful to her for keeping up with my charade.

 

“Well, that’s hardly enough to feed the brat let alone clothe him but I’m not an unreasonable woman. How soon will I receive the first payment?” She asks, a calculating look in her eyes.

 

Agnes agrees to adopting Peeta and leaves to prepare his bed in the attic. After claiming that having a mute sharing the same room as Ryan will have an adverse effect on his early developmental years, I simply had no desire to argue the point, happy that I’ve been able to persuade her to accept my son into our home…with the added help of a few coins.

 

In all the commotion, I hadn’t noticed that Peeta had fallen asleep in my arms. He could do with a bath and have some clean clothes that I’m sure Agnes has kept from when Ryan was about his age, but I haven’t the heart to wake him.

 

As I walk the caretaker out the door and into the street, I thank her for everything she has done today.

 

“I can only imagine what you must think of me, but I have good reason why my wife must never know how much of a stipend we are entitled to. I need to do this for my son.”

 

“You needn’t worry Mr Mellark, your secret is safe with me. I have friends in the Capitol that will take care of all the arrangements. Dividing the stipend equally between two parties is not an unusual request and they will make sure no one is able to trace who or where the other half goes to.” She assures before looking off towards the Community Home with a sigh.

 

“A lot has happened since the war and there are many people like me wanting to make a change for the better. I specifically requested to be assigned to District 12 because it was the worst affected of all the districts. I’m hoping that my time here will make a difference to these children, but I realised soon after arriving here that so much needs to be done.”

 

I see the sincerity of the young caretaker’s words and make plans to help her make that difference.

 

“Despite everything you heard today, there are many good people in the District who would be willing to help you. I will start by donating the daily goods that are left unsold to the home. Those children will not go hungry another day. I’ll spread the word around.”

 

She smiles and thanks me before starting her trek back to the Home.

 

“Wait. I’m sorry but I never asked your name.” I call to her.

 

“Trinket…Effie Trinket.”

 

******


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia Everdeen's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are becoming increasingly late and for that I apologise. No excuse other than I am a chronic procrastinator. 
> 
> My eternal thanks to my beta Shannon17 for her guidance, support and everything in between. Whenever I hit that 'self-doubt' wall, Shannon is always there to lift me up.

**~Lydia Everdeen~**

Much has changed since Jacob claimed Peeta from the Community Home on that cold day. Three winters have come and gone and over that period, I’ve watched so many citizens new and old come to the district to rebuild and start a new life here.

 

Jacob spread the word about the plight of the orphans to those he knew would help, and we rallied together to help make the lives of those children a little better. Even the Community Home, with its leaking roof and dark, drafty corridors, received a makeover with left-over building materials. The building crew giving up their own free time to carry out the much-needed repairs.

 

Other donations of food, blankets and used clothing that could be spared, came flooding in. No matter how big or small the gift, Effie gladly welcomed it. The generosity from so many citizens was as surprising as it was overwhelming.

 

Even our own resident Victor, Haymitch Abernathy, who usually kept to the Victor’s Village drinking himself to oblivion, could not resist Effie’s persuasive charms.

 

Haymitch donates part of his monthly Victor’s earnings, which the new government honours, to help pay for whatever extra these children may need. His self-imposed exile from the rest of the world seems to have fallen by the wayside along with his excessive drinking habits. He regularly visits the home, but not before stopping off at the ‘Sweets for my Sweet’ store first.

 

Unfortunately, there are still people left with a lifetime of prejudices and views that cannot be shifted.

 

My own family disowned me, and to this day, those few who survived both war and sickness do not acknowledge mine or my child’s existence. I was shunned away for daring to leave my life and all its privileges to follow my heart and be with the man I love. My refusal to honour the marriage contract my parents had arranged long ago, meant disgrace in their eyes and my defiance has never been forgotten nor forgiven. Friends and family alike, keep their distance. All except Jacob, the man I was arranged to marry.

_Before the war, District 12 was segregated into two sections - Merchant and Seam, the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’. Coming from a long line of healers, I soon became skilled at apothecary and healing at an early age. It had long been decided that an arranged marriage contract between the baker’s only son and the apothecary’s only daughter would be drawn. Even though we both knew we didn’t love each other in that way, Jacob and I simply fell in line with our parents’ wishes and the traditions of our ancestors._

_But when a tall, dark and handsome man with piercing steel-grey eyes and the voice of songbird came to the back of my parent’s shop to trade, I soon began to question some of those traditions and the idealism behind arranged marriages._

_Jacob was my one and only true friend and I owed it to him to be honest. When I told him that I was seeing Thorne in secret and wanted to run away to be with him, Jacob couldn’t have been more supportive. “Go and be happy. Hopefully, I will meet the love of my life too.” He told me and the look of happiness on his face meant the world to me. Our friendship would always stand the test of time._

 

***

 

_There were many rumours swirling around Agnes in those days and I did my best to ignore them. I would not fall into the web of hurtful Merchant gossip. As a healer, I was bound by an oath of silence._

 

_Agnes’ family came from a long line of money and privilege, without the security of that wealth and stature, I doubt they could’ve secured such a quick marriage into a reputable Merchant family. With our marriage contract formerly dissolved, her family seized the opportunity and proposed a joining between Jacob and Agnes, a lucrative marriage contract that his parents could not refuse. Their official ceremony and toasting were arranged in a matter of weeks and the news of a baby came soon after. During the times we managed to meet, my heart would clench at his increased despondency._

 

***

 

_I made a home with Thorne in the Seam and developed a fond friendship with our next-door neighbours. Before the war, Flora’s father had been tragically killed which meant she had to take on many odd jobs to keep her and her mother from starving. The Seam folk accepted Flora’s disability, born deaf and unable to speak, she learnt to adapt as best she could. The Merchants however, treated her as an outcast. They took every advantage of her disability, working her hard and paying her very little or in scraps and in some cases, nothing at all._

_Despite it all, she never allowed her misfortunes to stand in the way of who she was. Her caring, gentle and comforting presence eased the loneliness I felt during my first year in the Seam. Away from family and friends, all but shunned from town, it seemed a little less scary with Thorne and Flora in my corner._

 

***

 

_Flora was on her way home after working all day cleaning one of the Merchant homes on a rainy night when she stumbled across a drunk, bloodied and bruised Jacob. It was obvious he had been in a fight but she somehow managed to prop him up and drag him to my door._

 

_Thorne helped Flora bring him into the kitchen as I quickly gathered my salves and ointments._

 

_“Agnes gave birth to a healthy baby boy today…she named him Ryan.” He slurred._

 

_Thorne and I congratulated him, but no other words were spoken that night as I cleaned his wounds. Flora stayed to help with supper and I couldn’t help but notice how Jacob’s eyes followed her around the room._

_After that night, Jacob would come to the house at least once a week with a loaf of freshly made bread. He always brought something just for Flora concealed in a small brown paper bag and when she came over, his face brightened with a look I hadn’t seen in a very long time…happiness._

 

_They both relished in their new-found friendship. Flora’s disability never seemed to bother them, as they discovered ways to communicate with each other. Over time, their friendship blossomed and turned into something more. Though I was privy to the darker aspects of his relationship with Agnes, Jacob was a married man and I was ultimately encouraging him by turning a blind-eye to his infidelity. But how could I begrudge my friend that small bit of contentment. Even though deep down I knew the odds were not in their favour._

_Flora’s pregnancy was confirmed a year later and even though an unwed mother was frowned upon…even in the Seam, she could not have cared less. Her smile beamed with delight as she placed Jacob’s gentle hand over her belly conveying to him by touch what she couldn’t say in words. His child was growing inside of her and she was glowing._

_When I discovered I was pregnant months later, it was Flora’s calmness that helped me conquer the fear that bloomed inside of me allowing joy to take its place._

_Jacob and Flora’s happiness was short-lived. When he told me about the threats Agnes made towards Flora, it was clear why he had to keep away. His heart was torn but Flora understood, he had to protect her and their unborn child. So, when their son was born, I was determined to find a way for father and son to finally meet. With Flora's permission, I tucked the small child in the carriage with my own sweet Katniss and set off for the bakery._

 

_He beamed with pride the first time he saw his son, and when he carefully filled out the paperwork for the Capitol Births Registration Records, I looked over his shoulder to see the name, **Peeta Jacob Mellark**. _

_Jacob kept his word and stayed away, but he lived for the brief moments when he would see Flora and Peeta at the Market. It was the only place that wouldn’t cause any suspicion._

_As Peeta and Katniss grew, it was Katniss…always the adventurer, who would toddle next door if she wasn’t closely watched. With a sigh I'd follow her, letting myself in and glancing at a grinning Flora. I would find them either playing or napping…always cuddled together._

_It was a peaceful sight that I would desperately miss._

 

***

_Thorne’s next work assignment would keep him away from home for a month maybe two. Not wanting to be away from us for that amount of time, he requested clearance for Katniss and me to travel with him to District 7 where he was supervising the clearing of the forest from booby-traps and listening devices Snow’s cruel regime planted to keep an evil grip on its citizens._

 

_Katniss was miserable the whole time. She had restless sleeps and at first, I put it down to teething, but deep down I knew the real reason. Even at such a young age, my daughter missed her playmate._

 

_When the news reached us, sickness had already swept through much of the district. As soon as the health quarantine had been lifted, we returned home to find that so many, both Seam and Merchant, had been lost._

 

_My heart broke when I learned Flora and Peeta had died from the illness that almost wiped our tiny community. I wept, their loss was devastating to us, but I also wept for Jacob. My old friend had just lost everything._

 

_Months later and with her health failing fast, Flora’s mother began to mumble incoherently as I tended her and finally, in one moment of clarity before she died, told me what really happened to Peeta._

 

 _Afraid her grandson would be taken from her due to her poor health, she made the trek to the_ _bakery._ _Turned away by Agnes and with her strength waning, she had no other choice and made the painful decision to take him to the Community Home and give him some sort of chance at life._  

 

 _My heart raced but I had to be sure before I could tell Jacob. I couldn’t bear to raise his hopes only to have them dashed with possible misinformation from the confused ramblings of a dying woman. So, I went to the Community Home in search of Peeta._  

 

_The new caretaker was quite rattled at my sudden intrusion. “You can’t just barge in here like this.” Waving her hands about, she followed me in quick frantic steps as I hurried though the dark halls._

 

_The sight of Peeta, so frightened and alone in that dark place broke me and as I held him in my arms, I spoke to him softly._

 

_“Do you remember me Peeta? I’m Katniss’ Mama…you remember her, don’t you?”_

 

_He just stared at me with saddened eyes._

 

_Turning to the flustered caretaker, I gave her a summary of how Peeta ended at the home and promised to come back for him with his father. Not stopping to catch my breath, I ran as fast as I could to the bakery._

 

_The next day, I brought Katniss over to visit on the pretence of checking Peeta’s health. Her face brightened at seeing him for the first time in months and she stayed by his side until it was time to go home._

***

 

It seems that Effie Trinket has connections that hold great weight in the Capitol. Upon only a few months of her arrival, District 12 was appointed a fully qualified doctor and a health care nurse, taking over much of the healing responsibilities to which I was incredibly grateful. The new doctor came with a broad-minded view on herbal remedies and was not opposed to seeking consultation about some of his patients, giving them an alternative to conventional medicines.

 

When we received confirmation from the Capitol, a rush of activity swept the district to get housing and a small clinic open before their scheduled arrival. It was a mammoth task, but the building crew, with the help of community volunteers, completed it in record time. Dr Christian Raphael and his wife Imelda, a trained nurse, settled into our district surprisingly well and have already made names for themselves with their compassion and understanding, earning the respect of many.

 

With my patient load lightened, I’ve been able to spend more time with Katniss, knowing that soon there would be another baby that would need most of my days.

 

***

 

It’s a beautiful afternoon, I think to myself as Katniss and I walk over to the Mellark Bakery, but not before stopping at the general store. Noticing me looking over a dress in the window, Mrs Baer, the storekeeper’s wife comes out of the shop and starts chattering about this and that. A lovely woman who would have no problem talking under water. With a break in conversation, I look to my side and notice Katniss is gone.

 

After abruptly excusing myself from Mrs Baer and the topic of her varicose veins, I swiftly make my way over to the bakery that is two doors down. The loud sound of the bell hanging over the shop door chimes as I enter. My old school friend meets me at the counter with a large grin stretching across his face and I know it can only mean one thing.  

 

“I’m so sorry Jacob, you don’t have to tell me. I can see it in your face that my little rascal made her own way here again.” I say, a look of apology on my face.

 

I shoot him a scowl when I hear his muffled laugh as I waddle over to the counter, gently rubbing my very pregnant belly.

 

“It’s okay Lydia, you need to calm down before you have that baby here in my shop. I was giving Peeta a lesson on mixing cookie dough when we heard a little voice call out for him through the screen door. It didn’t take long before they were both sitting on the floor and Katniss began reading to Peeta with that animal book of hers.”

 

He guides me behind the counter, towards the entrance to the bakery kitchen, leaning to the side so I can peek through the door. I sigh a breath of relief at seeing Katniss chattering to a silent Peeta as she shows off her book.

 

Jacob grabs a stool for me to sit on as if he is truly worried about me having this baby in his shop. I chuckle softy as he hands me a cool class of iced tea and take a small sip of the refreshing drink before looking upon the angelic faces of our children.

 

“Katniss is growing up so fast.” I sigh. “We reached a compromise today and she went into her room for some quiet time with her new book. I needed to put my feet up for a while. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but I’ve been so tired lately. When I woke up, she insisted we come here so she could show Peeta her book. We barely made it to the square before she ran off. Luckily, I knew where to find her. That’s the third time this week.” I say with exasperation.

 

We sit, slowly sipping our iced-teas and enjoy the quietness and the cool spring breeze before I break the silence.

 

“It’s quiet upstairs. I take it Agnes is out for the day again.”

 

“Yeah. Thursday is bridge day and Agnes plays with some of the old ‘Merchant’ wives.” He answers.

 

Bridge was a favourite pass-time with many Merchant wives and one I enjoyed playing before I married, but it is a game from which I have long been excluded.

 

Although Agnes’s family fortunes diminished shortly after the downfall of the old Capitol, her attitude had not. With her aversion to work and avid spending habits that were well-known in town, she still managed to hold tight to the strings of her family’s decayed legacy.

 

“Every time I mention needing her help around the shop, Agnes finds an excuse to leave me on my own. I thought Ryan would like to spend some time learning to bake with me and Peeta today, but he balked at the suggestion, persuading his mother into taking him along. I get the impression he hates being in the bakery just as much as his mother does.” There’s a slight air of disappointment in Jacob’s voice.

 

After a brief pause in conversation, his demeanour lightens. “I’ve been teaching Peeta to bake just like my dad taught me when I was his age. He’s turning out to be quite the natural. When I close the shop for the day, we usually sit here together eating our spoils and welcome the afternoon breeze that blows through the back-screen door. Peeta’s attention was drawn away from the cookies we just baked with the arrival of Miss Everdeen here.” He says, smiling down at my five-year-old.

 

“So, I rolled out the small mattress I keep under the bench and made a little play area for them on the floor. I found some old toys that Ryan has outgrown to keep them occupied while I’m with customers out front. When I came back from serving Mrs. Lacey, Katniss was pointing to an animal on each page of her book, making cute animals sounds. I think she’s trying to teach Peeta to talk. But all he does is listen and watch her like she’s speaking another language.” He tells me in a concerned voice.

 

I place my hand on his shoulder sympathetically. “Give him time Jacob.”

 

He shakes his head in dismay. “I don’t understand. I knew there would be a slight chance that he would be born with the same disability as Flora.” His face fell, and his eyes grew sad, as they always did when he talked about his lost love.

 

“It wouldn’t matter to me…I’d love him regardless. When you told me he could hear, I was relieved that he wouldn’t go through the same indifference his mother grew up with.

 

Effie brought the new doctor here to check him over and he couldn’t give me any medical reason as to why he doesn’t speak. He thinks it may be psychological and suggested taking him to a child psychologist in the Capitol, but Agnes complained that I was wasting the doctor’s time and our money, but I would do the same for Ryan.”

 

As much as he’s tried, I know it’s hard for him to accept that Peeta may never speak but my focus shifts back to the children while Jacob moves to preparing two glasses of milk and a plate of cookies for them. They are playing quietly with the toys he had laid out earlier and I know they will enjoy the treat. 

 

Ryan suddenly bursts into the bakery kitchen followed by Agnes. “HEY! That’s my toy truck, freak!” He shouts angrily.

 

Before Jacob or I have time to react, Ryan snatches the toy from Peeta’s hand and shoves him backwards causing Peeta to bump his head on the floor. He doesn’t cry out and only lowers his head rubbing the back of it to soothe away the pain.

 

Without even a second thought, Katniss gets up from the floor with a determined scowl on her face and shoves an unsuspecting Ryan so hard that he too, falls to the floor with a thud.

 

Having already rushed over to stop any further shoving, Jacob checks both boys over for injuries. But Ryan runs to Agnes, crying at the top of his lungs claiming that Katniss pushed him first even though she saw the whole incident to begin with.

 

I sit Peeta on a stool and wrap some ice cubes in a cloth to place on his head before turning to Katniss to scold her for reacting the way she did.

 

“No Katniss. It’s not nice to push people. You need to say sorry to Ryan.” I explain firmly to my daughter, but there’s a fiercely stubborn expression on Katniss’ face.

 

“But he pushed Peeta, Mama.” She tries to reason.

 

“Once a bully, always a bully.” Agnes says in a bitter tone.

 

My head turns sharply to face Agnes, but Jacob is quick to respond and points out that it was Ryan who started it all by shoving Peeta to begin with.

 

“Those toys belong to Ryan and he has every right to not want to share them with anyone.” Agnes announces.

 

I hold the ice to Peeta’s head and gently smooth the curls away from his forehead. His blue eyes go wide when he hears the raised voice of his father.

 

“Ryan has so many toys he could open his own shop!” Jacob’s face turns a darker shade of red.

 

“He hasn’t played with those in years. You packed them away yourself saying they were ready for the rubbish tip, so I gave them to Peeta to play with while I was serving customers in the bakery on my own…again!” He emphasises harshly.

 

Ryan is still sobbing as Agnes begins to pack the toys into the box. “This wouldn’t have happened at all if you kept Peeta in the attic like I’ve told you. He’s been nothing but trouble since the first day you brought him here.”

 

“Ryan needs to learn the meaning of sharing.” Jacob growls.

 

“Of course, you would say that and side with the likes of her. Do I need to remind you this bakery is not a day care centre? I wouldn’t be surprised if those rumours I’ve heard about your pregnant friend are true.” 

 

“I don’t know what rumours you’re referring to, but I have no doubt whatever they are, you’ve made sure to spread them yourself!” Jacob responds with fury as I quickly check over Peeta’s bump keeping my own anger in check.

 

Agnes turns to me with a vicious tongue that has no bounds. “With your husband away so much, I wonder who warms your bed at night.” She looks over to Jacob with a questioning look.

 

“How dare you!” I shout.

 

“Are you insane?” Jacob intervenes. “Do you really think that Lydia would be unfaithful to Thorne Everdeen with anyone…let alone me?”

 

“Why not? You’ve had plenty of experience in that area.” She says in a mocking tone before turning those cold eyes back on me.

 

“Keep your daughter on a tight leash and if I see her here again, there will be consequences.” Agnes adds harshly. “As for you, stay away unless you intend to make a bakery purchase, you never know what rumours might start up if I catch you loitering. Wouldn't want to break up your fine marriage…would we?”

 

“You’re being ridiculous Agnes and this needs to stop…right now! Lydia and her family are welcome to visit whenever they choose.”

 

Try as he may, I know there’s no reasoning with this spiteful woman. “It’s okay Jacob. He’ll know that any rumours going around will be false and utterly preposterous.” Thorne has always been very understanding of my close friendship with Jacob. We both owe our happiness to him.

 

“You’re forgetting, Mrs Everdeen,” she sneers. “I know all the back-alley secrets of this town. The rebellion wasn’t that long ago, and I know some people would be interested to know exactly what part your husband played.”

 

The blood drains from my face. I don’t know if I should fear or challenge her threat. Knowing almost nothing about my husband’s service to the rebellion, I’m in no condition to fight the effects of cruel gossip and toxic rumours.

 

Agnes turns those cold eyes on Jacob. “It’s not too late to send your bastard away. I could have them remove him and there’s not a thing you could do to stop me. That defect is attracting Seam trash to my home and I won’t have it! He can either stay out of sight or I can call and have him carted away to one of those Capitol Asylums.” She spits viciously.    

 

I see real fear in my friend’s face for the first time. Those places are horrific, even if Agnes is lying, I know he won’t risk his son. I watch him slump…the battle lost.

 

There’s no comfort to offer him, nothing to be done about his cruel wife and her threats. So, I say the only thing I can.

 

“Thorne will be back at the end of the week and he’ll speak with Katniss. He has a way of explaining things to her that she’ll understand. We won’t be back.”

 

One last glance at Agnes and I can’t hold back. “I don’t know what made you hate so much but whatever the reason, there’s no excuse for the way you behave. I pity you.” I say to a smug Agnes before grabbing a hold of Katniss’ hand to walk out the door. _I need to get my daughter out of here._

 

Katniss begins to cry and struggles to free herself. “No Mama! I want to stay with Peeta!” She screams out, but I keep a firm hold of her hand.

 

“I’m afraid you can’t anymore Katniss. Say goodbye to Peeta now, we need to go home.”

 

“No Mama! No! Peetaaaa!” Her desperate pleas begin to tug at my heart, but I need to stay strong.

 

Swinging the door open, we step outside. Peeta rushes to the door clutching the book Katniss brought with her tightly to his chest. I can hear his whimpers increase with each furthered step Katniss and I take. A muffled sound comes from deep within him. _Is he trying to call her back?_

 

“Call for her Peeta…Katniss…say her name.” I hear Jacob plead.

 

Katniss is sobbing and reaching out with her free hand to Peeta as she calls out his name, but I hold onto her firmly. Looking over my shoulder, I see him open his mouth and just as I think a sound will come, he falls silent and lowers his head.

 

Peeta stands by the door, tears glistening in his blue eyes as he watches me take his only friend further away from him.

 

I turn my head one last time, just long enough to see Jacob slowly turn away. Peeta is still there, clutching Katniss’ animal book tightly to his chest. _It belongs to him now, he deserves that small memory._ Agnes appears, grabbing Peeta roughly by the arm pulling him away from the door and slamming it shut but not before sending me a cold self-satisfied smile.

 

***

 

When Thorne returned from his trip to District 8, I told him what happened at the bakery and he was furious. My relationship with Jacob was never an issue with him but we’ve both seen first-hand the damage gossip-mongers such as Agnes and her friends can do.  He’s strangely silent when it comes to her threat of outing his rebellious activity and I know better than to pry.

 

As painful as it was, the decision to keep Katniss from visiting Peeta was made. I could see the hurt in Thorne’s eyes as he tried to explain to Katniss why she couldn’t see her friend anymore.

 

“Why can’t I go see Peeta? I won’t push anyone again Papa.” She promises.

 

“You’ll make a new friend. You’ll see...maybe when you’re older...” Thorne tries to finish his sentence as he tucks her into bed.

 

“I don’t want a new friend! I only want Peeta!” She sniffs then turns her head away to avoid a goodnight kiss from her father.

 

***

 

Katniss begins to have nightmares and screams out in the middle of the night, her hand always reaching out for something unattainable. As I lie awake in our bed after calming her back to sleep, the same thought ponders in my mind. _I’m not entirely sure our decision to keep her away from Peeta was the right one._

 

When I give birth to a healthy baby girl a few weeks later, Katniss clucks like a tiny mother hen. We name her Primrose and in the excitement of a new baby, I see the memory of Peeta fading in her young mind.

 

I feel a strange mixture of guilt and sadness and wonder how many years will go by before I forget that sweet, quiet boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge 'thank you' to my beautiful beta Shannon17 (aka sunsetsrmydreams) for the guidance and support she constantly gives me. You always manage to keep me on course. 
> 
> I also want to thank some more beautiful people who sent me their support and kind words; katnissdoesnotfollowback; awkwardeverlark (aka jennajuicebox); dianaflynn22; drivebyanon (aka demona424) and mega-aulover (aka MegaAuLover).
> 
> To all my readers, those who comment and give me their kudo's, thank you for supporting my story.
> 
> A very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and your families! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this update. See you all in 2019!

**~Peeta Mellark~**

**(twelve years later)**

_Mooooo goes the cow. C.O.W. Cow._

_Woof, Woof goes the dog. D.O.G. Dog._

The edges of my lips turn upwards, the smile forming so easily on my face as I turn each page revealing a new animal and sound. There’s very little to smile about but as I’ve done a million times over, repeating her words in my head as I flick through the worn book, always leaves me in a peaceful frame of mind.

I close it gently, being extra careful with the frayed bindings and hold it close to my chest. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes tight and welcome the memories as they drift across my mind like soft whispers in the wind. _Does she remember me? Does she know how she lifts my spirits and fills my heart with joy even when I am at my lowest?_ I find a strange solace when I think of her in this way. _She’s always with me…she never left…not really._

Lifting the loose wooden slats in the floor, I carefully wrap the book in a clean cloth I took from the bakery kitchen downstairs as a protective barrier and place it into the hollow cavity. Replacing the slats, I make sure to lay the old mat over it. It’s my secret hiding place that safely keeps my most precious treasure…her book.

 

***

Laying on my lumpy mattress, I stare at the opened window, waiting patiently as the cool summer breeze blows through the faded laced curtains. These walls that surround me have been more like a prison rather than my home ever since I can remember.

I get up and walk towards the window and look out, breathing in the smells of the trees and flowers in a meadow that I’ve only seen in my dreams. _What would it be like to step out of the window and climb down the rickety trellis and feel the green grass under my bare feet? To lay in a field of flowers and taste raindrops as they fall gently from the sky? To sigh_ _contentedly as the sun drops below the horizon, painting the sky in the warmth of my favourite colour?_ But as these questions roll around in my head, Agnes’s threats creep up and begin to consume me, shrouding my thoughts with fear. I step away from the window on shaky legs and do what I always do…sit and wait.

***

Agnes Mellark is my father’s wife, and through the years, she has done her utmost to keep me hidden from the community. Her hatred towards my late mother and the contempt she constantly shows me has never wavered.

 

She has single-handily pushed away everyone I care about. Even the kind caretaker Effie Trinket, was forced to stay away after the witch threatened to report her to the authorities for child abuse. As ludicrous as that sounds, especially coming from the likes of Agnes. With the welfare of the remaining orphans in her care at stake, Effie had no choice but to distance herself from my father and me in the process.

 

Although that didn’t stop the Victor, Haymitch Abernathy, from paying us a visit and giving Agnes more than just a piece of his mind. His explicit use of the English language echoed up to the rafters of my room. I decided I liked him and with a small grin on my face, I listened to her indignant shrieks below.

 

***

 

Every day I see my father’s decline. Once of stocky and strong build, he is now nothing but a shell of a man. The light from his eyes has dimmed over the years and it scares me to think what my future would hold if anything should happen to him.    

 

He does his best to keep me from her abusiveness but when he’s called away on deliveries, Agnes turns to the only friend she has left…a bottle of sherry wine. It’s only a matter of time before she seeks me out and with every drunken gulp she takes, her bitterness towards me begins to bubble until it reaches to the surface.

I try my hardest not to upset her. Keeping my head down, concentrating on my work when I’m in the bakery kitchen during the early hours of the morning. It works...most of the time, but when she drinks…the slightest thing can set her off.

_“I thought I was finally rid of you and your whore mother. Jacob thought he won this battle, but it’s far from over. You will not stand in the way of Ryan getting this bakery and if I hear one peep out of you, you’ll live to regret it.”_ Her threat has been embedded in my brain since the first night I came to live here.

_“You’re worthless! Just like your idiot mother! Freak!”_ Each time she mouths these, and other hurtful words, I clench my fists and bite the inside of my cheek hard until the metallic taste of my blood swirls in my mouth and brace myself for the physical abuse that usually follows.

 

The evidence of her anger is mostly covered by Ryan’s hand-me-down shirts. But there are times after too many glasses of wine, her swift hand connects with my face and I’m left with a bruise or mark that cannot be hidden from sight.

 

But it is the memory of watching Katniss being taken from me that features heavily in my nightmares. All this because of Agnes’s unrelenting hatred.

 

Not for the first time, a thought crosses my mind. _What would my life be like if he had left me in that orphanage? Maybe it would’ve been better._

 

***

My long and lonely days go by a little faster when I work in the bakery. While the outside world sleeps, I work behind closed doors to make the delectable masterpieces that customers order daily.

 

With unending patience, my father has taught me baking skills that have been passed from one generation to the other. I could listen to him talk all day about the Mellark’s that came before us, how they settled here long before the Dark Days. How the recipes, hand-written and aged on parchment paper are unlike any other in all-of Panem. But the intricate art of cake decorating is what I truly revel in. It seems I have an artistic flair with an eye for detail and an appreciation of beauty that shows in my work.

 

With the aid of the many books dad brings me from the library, I learn to perfect my skills from the colourful botanical volumes that hold special interest. I study every petal and stem of the different varieties of roses, tulips and gardenias that customers request for their cakes but there is only one flower that captures my heart.  Simple, white, uncomplicated. I feel a jolt every time I see it and can’t stop my hand from running over the page.  

 

Caught up in the designs and colours, it’s almost easy to forget my circumstances. Sometimes, when Agnes and Ryan are out, I stay in the kitchen while my father is serving customers and I can hear their glowing praises. It fills me with a sense of pride and accomplishment, but it’s soon washed away because nobody knows it’s my work they admire so much. Hours of mixing dyes and shaping petals, meticulous piping...all accredited to my father or Ryan, who would rather spend time socialising with his friends than working at the bakery.

 

Still, I live for those moments of creativity, because it’s when I feel most free. And at night when I dream, I see myself baking in my own kitchen, in the hideaway cabin I built with my own hands. And I’m happy in the surrounding floral-scented meadows and lush forests that flourish just for me...and Katniss.

***

Today is Sunday. The bakery only opens for a few hours in the morning then the rest of the day is free, and it has become my favourite day of the week.

 

Agnes has started to disappear for the day claiming to be visiting friends, but dad and I know better. Over time, it became clear that her usual circle of friends grew tired of her ways and one by one, began excluding her from social gatherings. Ryan as usual, has been out all night. He’ll stagger in at some point and head straight to bed, dead to the world until late afternoon.

 

But this is the day Katniss will come to the bakery to sell the wild berries she’s picked along with the herbs used to make the salves and other herbal remedies for the apothecary. She has done so, every Sunday since her father’s tragic passing four years ago.

 

Dad told me how friends helped her, and her young sister take over the apothecary shop after their mother became closed off and withdrawn, buried deep in grief for a husband she loved with all her heart. There’s always a sadness in his voice when he speaks of Lydia Everdeen, his best friend. A loss I understand so well.

 

The two sisters are carrying on her work to supply herbal remedies to the community. Little Primrose Everdeen, just like her mother, is a natural born healer and volunteers at the medical clinic under the supervision of Dr Raphael.

 

***

 

I walk up to the window and move the curtain across a fraction and wait. When I see her coming towards the bakery, my heart feels like it will leap out of my chest. I rush down the stairs as quietly as my heavy tread will allow, to be as close to her as possible and hear her sweet voice from the crook of the door in the kitchen.

 

Just like every Sunday, she asks for two cookies for her mother and sister, never one for herself and every Sunday, she tries to hand over a coin as payment. But my father refuses to take her money. “My treat,” is always his reply before grabbing the cookies already placed in a brown paper bag from under the counter bench. And just like every Sunday, I sneak in something that’s just for her. A candied flower that bears her name.

 

Her smile is subtle but there’s no hiding it from me as she accepts the brown paper bag from dad. In my excitement to see her, I hadn’t noticed _him_ by her side until now. She always came into the shop alone but lately, _he’s_ been with her and today she looks…sad. _How I wish I could ask her_ _what’s wrong._

 

Katniss’s head is down, only occasionally looking up but when she does, I get a peek at those sparkling grey eyes and lose myself for the few precious minutes I have before she leaves the shop until next Sunday. Her hair is in a single braid instead of two, but it doesn’t matter, she’s still so beautiful.

 

Forgetting where I am and giving in to the need to inch closer to her, I lean further into the door and it makes a squeaking noise that freezes me in place.

Dad turns his head slightly towards the sound then back to Katniss whose attention has become focused on the door.“Ryan’scleaning out back.” He smiles, reflecting the attention back to him. “The berries are perfect as always. The usual price?” He quickly adds.

 

I silently sigh a relieved breath as Katniss nods. Watching dad hand over some coin in exchange for the ripe berries, he clears his throat, hesitating for a second or two before he speaks.

 

“Have you been well Katniss?” This is the same question he’s been asking every Sunday but never asks anything beyond that. But today…things are different.

 

“Yes, very well, thank you.” She responds quickly.

 

“H-h-how is your mother?”

 

Katniss, not expecting to answer another question, pauses briefly.

 

“Oh…um…she’s doing better. Thank you for asking Mr Mellark.”

 

“I’m glad. Will you tell her I was asking after her?”

 

Katniss looks to my father with a questioning look in her eyes and takes a moment before replying.

 

“Sure Mr Mellark. Mama doesn’t say much these days, well…nothing that makes any sense anyway, but I’ll let her know. Did you know each other…I mean…before the war?”

 

“Yes. I knew both you’re your parents.” Dad’s face beams, lost in a moment of nostalgia. “Your mother and I grew up together and she used to bring you here to the bakery when you were little. We’d sit in the back for hours drinking tea and chat and I would always have a fresh batch of her favourite sugar cookies ready for her to take home.”

 

Katniss seems to be deep in thought. “Mama does look forward to her sugar cookie every Sunday, but I don’t remember any of that…I wish I could…it sounds nice.” She says, glancing over at the empty shiny glass cases.

 

There’s a gentle smile on my father’s face as he recalls the past. “Your mother loved to look at the cakes in the display cabinets too, especially the wedding cakes. I’ve tried several times to visit her, but I’m always told she’s not accepting visitors. I can never get passed your front door.”

 

She seems puzzled. “I’m sorry Mr Mellark, our neighbour watches over her while my sister and I are at school. Strange how Hazelle has never mentioned you coming to visit. I’ll make sure to ask her though. When did you last stop by?”

 

Dad is about to respond when the man standing rather impatiently beside Katniss, interrupts their conversation. 

 

“Looks like it’s up to me to do the introductions, and now would be the perfect time seeing things are going to change around here. Hi, I’m Gale Hawthorne…Katniss’ boyfriend.”

 

Gale Hawthorne extends his hand out to my father and for a split second it appears dad is about to refuse it, but he would never allow himself to be rude and shakes the man’s offered hand.

 

“As soon as Katniss turns eighteen, we’ll be here to pick our own wedding cake, isn’t that right Katniss?” His tone is possessive, and it makes my skin prickle with anxiety.  

 

My father moves his hand away almost at once but doesn’t say anything, neither does Katniss and when this man…Gale…puts his arms around her, she flinches slightly, and it takes all my strength not to come out and push him away. But I know I can’t. _She’s only mine in my dreams._

 

I run up to my room in the attic and shut myself away gripping my hair roughly and shaking my head. Watching them leave from my window, he seems pleased with himself as he wraps his arm around her shoulders tightly pulling her into his chest.

 

And for the first time in my life, I want to scream!

 

_What did you expect? She doesn’t remember you! She would never fall in love with someone like you! You’re a freak!_

***

 

I hear them speaking outside, their voices somewhat raised and when I take another look from the corner of the window, I see Katniss and her boyfriend arguing but I can’t make out what they’re saying. He wraps his arms around her waist forcefully and kisses her, but she pushes him away which only makes him laugh. He tugs at the end of her braid before walking away.

 

She wipes her mouth vigorously with the end of her sleeve and looks up to the sky. Even from this distance, I can see the tears flowing from her eyes. _What I would give to wipe those tears away. But what’s the use._

In my exasperation, I flick the curtain a little too hard causing the rod to dislodge from its hooks and it falls to the floor. I fumble with the curtain and lift my head to see her gazing directly towards my window and I’m locked in her stare. 

 

My heart pounds.

 

_No…she saw me. The witch will be angry…I didn’t mean for it to happen…She’ll make Katniss go away again…I’m so stupid!_

 

_***_

 

A knock at my door does little to bring me out of my panic mode even though I know that it’s my dad. Neither Agnes nor Ryan would bother to knock and usually barge in unannounced. With the curtain rod still in my hand, I try to put it back in place, but it falls from my shaking, uncoordinated fingers.

 

I quickly move to the side of the window and push my back hard against the wall as he enters the room and approaches slowly. His eyes are averted to the curtain rod on the floor then looks up to the panicked look on my face. I peek one last look out the window, but she’s gone. _What does it matter now?_

 

“What happened Peeta?” He walks to the window picking up the curtain rod and re-hangs it. “I guess you heard everything.  I think it’s time you and I had a talk.”

 

I nod and gather my thoughts before walking over to the shelf choosing a few books to tell him how I feel. We sit on my bed and I begin to flick through the pages until I find the bookmarks with the pictures I want to show him. ‘A Katniss flower’ from one book then a ‘broken heart’ from another and he understands.

 

Knowing school was never going to be a choice for me, dad spent every spare hour he could manage, teaching me how to read and write. He would often compliment me on my penmanship, but paper journals were expensive and too frivolous to waste and I would much rather keep them for sketching. Using images and words from books seemed somewhat quicker to show my emotions than any word I could write. So, I began to bookmark pictures that held a certain connection or meaning…just like the Katniss flower.

 

This has become my preferred way to communicate and over time, we’ve mapped out a system that works. I even made a list of shorthand responses that convey everything I wish to say in just a few words and use the pictures when I want to show something bigger...something that expresses more than words could ever do.

 

I point to two words I know he’ll understand.  ‘him’…‘why?’ 

 

“I know son and I’m sorry that I don’t have any answers for you right now. One thing’s for sure, I don’t like it any more than you do. There’s something about that cocky young man that doesn’t sit well with me. That neighbour Katniss spoke of…Hazelle, is his mother and she always blocks the doorway and has an excuse why Lydia is not accepting visitors. I just want to tell her I’m sorry.” He runs his hand over his face and tiredly scratches the day-old stubble. “I thought I was protecting everyone but all I’ve manage to do is cause more heartache.”

 

Dad is despondent and stays silent while I look for the picture I bookmarked as my description of him…‘a knight fighting a dragon’.

 

He looks at the picture I’m pointing to and sighs. “Thank you. I don’t feel like much of one but yes, I did this to protect you, Lydia, Katniss…even Ryan but I’ve failed. I feel like a coward.”

 

I shake my head. No! My father is not a coward and I want him to know that he is anything but. I go to a book that has a special picture I bookmarked long ago and place it on his lap and point to it…‘a mother nursing her infant child’. Then another picture of ‘a red heart’...‘love’.

 

Dad stares at the picture in front of him. Placing his hand on my shoulder, a lone tear falls to his cheek as he clears his throat. “Yes Peeta. I did this because I love you and your mother.”

 

I wait for dad to speak again as I flick through pages from another book in anticipation of what he might say or ask but he stays silent, deep in thought.

 

Agnes has fed on my fears for many years now to the point where they have manifested into something far worse and the thought of stepping outside brings an overwhelming flood of anxiety that sweeps through my body like a tidal wave and it leaves me in a cold sweat. I can never leave this place, safe within my forced state of confinement. Thinking of this in our silence, I search through the small pile of books and find a picture to show my father…then point to me…‘a man locked in a prison cell’.

 

I flick through the dictionary and point to another word…‘hopeless.’

 

Dad straightens his back and faces me with a determined look upon his face.

 

“Nothing is hopeless, son.”

 

Dad leaves to check on the ovens one more time before he goes out for his usual Sunday afternoon stroll.

 

Alone in my room once again, I’m left feeling drained and restless from our ‘conversation’. There’s nothing to do but go to the one thing that will calm me. I open the book to the first page and begin…

 

_Mooooo goes the cow. C.O.W. Cow._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta Shannon17 for helping me get over the line with this update. 
> 
> This story would still be running wild in my head if not for her support, feedback and suggestions (not to mention her 'saint-like' patience). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this update. :)
> 
> *all mistakes are mine and nope...I don't own The Hunger Games*

**~Katniss Everdeen~**

I walk out of the bakery as quick as my legs can carry me.

 

Gale’s initial announcement that he was my boyfriend left me seething. But when he implied to the baker that we would soon marry, I was rendered speechless by a dizzying mixture of anguish and embarrassment that burned through me like wildfire. I had to escape. With the introduction done, I bid Mr Mellark a good afternoon and briskly turned from Gale, intent on putting as much distance between us as possible.

 

Gale has been pressuring me for weeks, trying to convince me that it’s time our relationship goes further than that of friends and neighbours. Reminding me almost daily of the verbal agreement our parents supposedly made long ago, one that I was never privy to until just recently.

 

_My father would never agree to such a thing. Would he?_

 

I could never imagine my father discussing my future as if I was a piece of property to be auctioned off and sold to the highest bidder. Though Gale’s mother, Hazelle Hawthorne, is adamant that before my father’s death, Papa discussed the idea of a marriage between myself and her eldest son. From their accounts, not only did he agree, he wholeheartedly gave his blessing.

 

My hope that Mama’s mind would stay in the present long enough to shed some light on the situation, proved fruitless. Her jumbled words made no sense and to my disappointment, she could not confirm nor deny such a conversation or agreement ever took place. In her grief-stricken state, Mama can never stay focused, trailing off at the drop of a hat and speaking incoherently of lost friends, witches, secrets and a quiet golden child. Every night she cries herself to sleep begging for forgiveness.

 

_It’s never clear who’s forgiveness she seeks._

 

***

 

Our world changed the day we were informed that Papa was killed whilst on a clearing assignment in the Capitol.

 

We were told it happened quickly after one of the crew members unknowingly stepped on a trigger plate hidden under the surface setting off an explosive chain reaction. They were all incinerated instantly. There were no bodies left to bury and each family were financially compensated for their loss. But for some, the monthly payments only go so far.

 

Prim and I were lucky. Being slated to inherit a successful business gave us a sound future. From a young age, Mama had trained both of us to eventually take over the Apothecary, teaching us to use our natural gifts to further develop our skills. She would often send me to the nearby woods to gather medicinal plants, herbs and berries, some of which I used to make the rich soaps that were a bestseller in the shop.

 

When Prim’s thirst for knowledge became clear, Mama began to train her to be a true healer. Her eagerness to learn all there was to know about the art of healing the human body and the various uses of herbal remedies, left no doubt that she’ll make an excellent doctor someday.

 

We have a regular flow of customers that buy the salves, natural remedies, soaps and perfumes I have learned to make on my own. They, along with Prim’s healing abilities, have earned the respect of our district and a reliable income. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re on our own.

 

***

 

Gale is my closest friend, but the inclination to marry him…become his wife…anyone’s wife for that matter, is a topic I’ve been avoiding at all cost.

 

My steps quicken, wanting to run away to the meadow where I can breathe again. With the rage building quickly inside me, the urge to scream at the top of my lungs and release this pent-up anger is my only thought. But I only get a few paces away from the bakery before Gale grabs my arm, whipping my body around to face him. Squirming to free myself from his grasp, the bag of cookies I was holding falls to the ground.

 

_Oh no! My flower!_

“Are you going to talk to me or just run away like you usually do?”

 

“Leave me alone Gale!”

 

“No! You’re acting like a spoiled brat and I don’t see what your problem is. Everyone is expecting us to get married sooner rather than later…might as well let people know it’s a sure bet.” Gale’s words leave me cold.

 

“Everyone? Who is everyone? You…your mother?!”

 

Shoving Gale hard enough that he takes a step back, I quickly reach down and pick up the paper bag before one of us accidentally steps on it. He starts to speak but I’m not listening as I open the bag slightly to inspect the contents inside. Relieved and happy to see that nothing is broken, I carefully re-seal the bag and place it inside my backpack, zipping it up before strapping it over my shoulders.

 

Wiping my nose with the end of my sleeve, I manage to sniff out a shaky response. “I told you I needed some time to think things over. I haven’t agreed to marry you Gale. How could you humiliate me in front of the baker like that?” 

 

“Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker. What difference does it make who I told? It’s going to happen eventually. Seems to me like you might be sweet on the old guy. Is there something you want to tell me?”

 

I shove him again, but this only makes him laugh. “You can be really stupid sometimes!” His connotation utterly absurd.

 

“We’ve been dancing around this for weeks now. Me and Ma talked about it and she said now was as good a time as any for people to know so…why not start with the baker? Seemed like the perfect opportunity seeing you weren’t even going to bother introducing us.”

 

_That’s because I didn’t want you there._

 

My Sunday trips to the bakery to sell the berries I picked from the woods along with the herbs needed for the Apothecary, was something I enjoyed doing on my own. Although our conversations were always brief, I looked forward to seeing Mr Mellark’s friendly smile, not to mention the candied katniss flower he would slip in the paper bag that is always waiting for me under the counter.

 

Being in the bakery, even for just a short time, felt warm and welcoming and it had me appreciating the smells of breads and pastries that were baked in the kitchen ovens earlier in the day. There was just something about this place...a presence I always found soothing…familiar.

 

***

 

I never questioned why we never ventured into the bakery to buy bread or order birthday cakes like the rest of the district’s citizens. Mama would make her own bread and try her best at baking cakes for our birthdays at home.

 

I still remember being invited to Madge Undersee’s 16th birthday party. My whole class at school were invited and I wasn’t surprised to see everyone had showed up. It was my first party and there were balloons and party streamers and a very large table carefully laid out with all kinds of sweets and treats.

 

Proudly sitting in the centre of the feast, was the birthday cake. It was the most beautiful and elaborately decorated cake I had ever seen, and I couldn’t stop admiring it. The delicate pink and lilac roses that weaved around and on top of the white frosted cake looked so life-like, I had to fight the urge to touch them just to see if they were real. The work Mr Mellark put into the cake must have taken him hours.

 

When I came home from the party, I couldn’t hold back my excitement as I tried to describe to Prim and Mama how beautiful the cake was. Prim seemed to hang on every word. Mama said nothing, but just for a moment, I caught a rare glint of a smile in her eyes as she stared aimlessly into the distance from her bedroom window.

 

***

 

Doctor Raphael and his wife were kind people and genuinely cared about Mama’s wellbeing. Her recommendations and advice helped them greatly when they first arrived in the District. So, to return the favour, Imelda Raphael has been running the shop a few hours a week while Prim and I are at school.

 

One afternoon while I was helping Mrs Raphael close the Apothecary for the day, the doctor arrived to escort his wife home. He mentioned in passing how the baker liked to experiment with different herbs and fruits for his breads and pastries but was finding the cost of shipping fruit from the Capitol too expensive. Dr Raphael thought perhaps Mr Mellark might be interested in buying whatever I could manage to pick.

 

The idea was a good one. During the most plentiful seasons it was difficult to use or preserve the sheer amounts of berries, apples and herbs the wild had to offer. The thought of eating actual bakery bread made my mouth water.

 

The first meeting felt a little strange for a few awkward moments. The baker looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost. Caught staring, Mr Mellark quickly apologised saying that I reminded him of someone he knew a long time ago. A business agreement was reached, although I was surprised Mr Mellark made no attempt to haggle on price. Sunday soon became my favourite day of the week.

 

***

 

It was at Hazelle’s insistence that Gale started helping me forage, for my protection, she said. It wasn’t long before he began to walk me to the bakery, waiting close by while I handled the trades. But today was different, it was a whole new level of possession.

 

“Your Ma! It’s always you and your Ma! Do you listen to everything she tells you Gale!”

 

“Don’t you be starting on my Ma. She lost her husband too but didn’t turn her back on her own kids like your Ma did. At least my Ma isn’t a--.”

 

“A what, Gale?”

 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he takes a deep exasperated breath to think twice about what to say next. “Look, we both know that your Ma isn’t right in the head and most likely she never will be. It’s not like it’s a big secret that she’s gone crazy.”

 

“That’s enough!”

 

“Is that the thanks you show someone for their kindness? You should count yourself lucky my Ma is there to help. Name me one person you know who is willing to take something like that on.”

 

Feeling ashamed and hating to admit it, I know Gale is right. Mama never spoke of having any family left in the district. I don’t think she ever had any friends either, except for the Hawthorne’s who moved to the district when I was 10.

 

A month after Papa died, I found myself having to make decisions no teenager should ever have to make. Left with no other options and perhaps a little too hastily, I accepted Hazelle’s offer to be Mama’s carer, but only as a temporary arrangement until I finish school.

 

Hazelle takes every opportunity to mention the agreement and how Mama and Prim will move in with her once Gale and I are married.

 

“If I ever decide to get married it will be because of love and I don’t see that happening in the future…not with you or anyone else. You’re a good friend and I don’t want to lose you, but a marriage between us wouldn’t work. I just don’t love you in that way.”

 

“Life isn’t a fairy-tale! Maybe you should stop burying your head in those stupid books you read! You don’t have to be in love with me. Ma says that will come in time…you will learn just like my parents did. And once we’re married, there won’t be any time for reading. You’ll have better things to occupy your spare time.” He laughs, winking suggestively.

 

I turn to leave, no longer wanting any further part of this conversation but Gale is quick to grab me. Cupping my face roughly with his hands, he plants a hard kiss on my lips. He’s breath smells stale as his lips cover mine. His wet tongue begins to coat my lips with saliva, seeking entry into my mouth. When he finally releases me, I reach for the end of my sleeve and wipe my mouth in disgust. But my immediate reaction only amuses him.

 

“Aww! Look at you…all fiery and defensive. Ma was right when she said there’s a wildness inside you that needs to be tamed.” He tugs at my braid. “I’ve got some things to do before dinner, so I’ll see you later tonight.” I turn my head away as he struts towards the train station. 

 

Tears that I’d been holding back, stream down my face and I feel like I’m suffocating, struggling for a gasp of fresh air.

 

Feeling lost, I raise my head up to the sky and let the tears fall down my face as I stare mindlessly towards the clouds that are slowly moving above me. I’m suddenly drawn to a noise that seems to have come from the attic window above the bakery.

 

My head turns quickly to the sound and my eyes lock almost instantly to the lone figure of a young man standing at the window. He doesn’t move, neither do I.

 

 _It must be Ryan Mellark._ I think to myself as I raise my hand to wave.

_Wait…no…it’s not him. His hair is the wrong colour._ As those thoughts drift across my mind, I hear a voice call out to me from across the way.

 

“Whatcha doing over there Everdeen? Waiting for Rapunzel to throw down his hair.” Ryan sniggers loudly.

 

Mr Mellark said Ryan was working in the bakery kitchen, but he couldn’t have been. He’s obviously been out drinking all night.

 

_Why would the baker lie to me?_

 

_So, if that wasn’t Ryan in the kitchen, who was it?_

 

My head turns back up to the attic window, but the golden-haired man in the window is gone.

 

_Was he real?_

 

“What are you talking about Ryan?”

 

“Shshsh! It’s a big secret. But…I’m kinda really drunk so…just forget what I said. Okay.” He hiccups.

 

“It must berry selling day again. Better not let my mother catch you loitering around here. She’ll probably be more drunk than I am when she gets back, and things could get very ugly for everyone, especially if she sees you.” Ryan staggers up the back steps of the bakery and unlocks the door.

 

Mrs Mellark’s marriage to the baker was an arranged one. Whispers around town say she’s an abusive woman and a drunk and I’ve never heard a kind word said about her. I hear talk that Mr Mellark only stays with her because of Ryan but a lot of folks say he should have divorced her years ago.

 

The current rumour has it that she goes to the edge of town with a bottle of wine to drink her sorrows away and waits for her secret lover to show. I doubt if that is even true.

 

“I thought I saw someone in the--.”

 

“Oh. You still here?” He slurs, swaying at the top of the steps. “Well don’t say I didn’t warn ya! Nighty night.” Ryan walks through the doorway and closes it behind him, leaving me to ponder in my thoughts.

*******

_Up. Up. Up. I need to keep climbing up. With each laboured step I take, the distance between us seems to increase and I’m no closer to him. Although his face has faded, the blueness of his eyes has not, and they bore into me with such intensity. I try with all my might to reach him but there’s a force pulling me away._

_“No…please! I want to stay!” I frantically struggle to move closer, but the air is viscous and heavy, slowing each step. The distance between us feels like miles and I’m already so tired._

_The vision begins to dissolve. “I can’t see you! Where are you?” I scream as my surroundings grow dark, but he’s still there, just barely._

_“Come find me!” Strangely, his lips don’t move but his eyes focus on me as the unspoken words whisper through my mind._

_“Stay with me, please!” I try to claw my way to him._

_“P-P—!”_

***

 

“Wake Up Katniss! It’s just a dream!”

 

Through the cloudiness that hangs over my head like a winter’s storm, I’m slowly brought out from the depths of my dreams, guided by the sound of Prim’s worried voice.

 

Panting for breath, I can feel Prim’s small hands on my shoulders as she gently shakes me awake from my nightmarish haze.

 

As my eyes flicker open and adjust to the light coming from the lampshade on the bedside table that separates our two beds, I look around the familiar surroundings of our shared bedroom and sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you little duck.”

 

“It’s okay Katniss. Another bad dream?” She asks, already knowing my answer.

 

I nod my head slightly as I wipe the wetness of my tears from my cheeks with the palm of my hands. Freeing my legs from the tangled bed sheets, I sit up and watch as Prim takes a handkerchief from the pocket of her pyjamas and hands it to me before sitting beside me.

 

“I know you don’t like to talk about it and I’m not Mama, but you’ve been having these dreams off and on for so long now. And ever since we found out about that stupid agreement, you’re having them more often than ever.” Prim plucks at a thread from the throw blanket on my bed before meeting my eyes. 

 

“I might be just a kid but I’m not an idiot. I saw how you were with Gale tonight…how sad you always look whenever he’s around. Do you love him?”

 

_Maybe my heart will learn to. Even as I think it...I know it’s a lie._

 

“Gale and his family have helped us look after Mama since Papa died. We owe them so much. I should stop being selfish and accept his proposal.” But my heart rejects the statement.

 

“That’s not what I asked, Katniss.”

 

“No…I don’t love him.” I whisper as I finally admit the truth. “I can’t.”

 

“Then you need to find your voice and tell Gale and Hazelle. Who gives a damn about Papa’s agreement? You’ll be finishing school at the end of the year and after you graduate, we can work out a plan to look after Mama on our own.”

 

I reach for her hand and squeeze it gently, being grateful that at least I have my sister on my side.

 

“Now, about these dreams, maybe talking about them will help? You don’t have to worry, I’m good at keeping secrets, even from Hazelle.”

 

Prim is like Mama in so many ways and people often comment how she’s her exact image. But as I look at my sister’s sweet face in the dim light, I smile warmly and contemplate her words. There was a time when Mama and I would talk for hours when I was troubled, and I miss those days terribly.

 

For someone so young, Prim has the maturity far beyond her 12 years. These dreams are becoming more vivid and I’m tired of waking up feeling like something’s been ripped away from me...something so necessary and precious the ache in my heart feels real.

 

_Maybe she’s right._

 

I bite my thumbnail nervously letting a few quiet moments pass. “It’s always the same thing.” I begin. “I’m being pulled away from the one thing I’m trying so desperately to reach. It doesn’t matter how hard I fight, the distance grows.”

 

“It sounded like you were calling out for Papa.”

 

“What?” I ask bemused. The trail of thought gone.

 

“I mean…I’ve never heard you call out before. You always just whimper and thrash about but just now…it’s the first time I’ve heard you call out and you kept saying you wanted to stay with P. P for Papa, right?”

 

I shrug my shoulders as the thought lingers briefly but I soon dismiss it. “No, I don’t think so.” Choosing not to elaborate.

 

Over the years I had come to terms with my father’s death, but the nightmares have never wavered. They feel different, unique to a single concept that has plagued me off and on since childhood. I’m adrift, lonely and lost without this person I can’t remember…that I can’t find my way back to. Sometimes just barely catching a glimpse of hazy blue eyes.

 

“Maybe these dreams are trying to help you unlock a memory…help you to remember something important.” She says, gently tucking a loose strand of hair from my disheveled braid behind my ear.

 

“You think I don’t know that!” I say a little too harshly and apologise as soon as the words leave my mouth.

 

“I’m sorry Prim. I know you’re only trying to help but what’s the use of talking about it when these dreams are never clear.”

 

“Don’t you see Katniss? There must be a memory locked in the back of your mind that’s fighting hard to come to the surface.” Prim adds. “I don’t think it’s a something you are reaching for, but rather a someone.” Prim offers.

 

Her words send a shiver through me. Her theory one I had begun to think as well, but why…who?

 

“It’s Mama you should be talking to, I bet she’d have the answers. We could ask her in the morning before we go to school. I’ve noticed she is a little more aware in the mornings before Hazelle arrives to give her medication. She has good days sometimes, we just need to be patient with her.”

 

Even in this light, there’s no hiding the look of disbelief on my face.

 

After Papa died, Mama withdrew further and further into the darkness. Most days, she sits in her favourite chair, looking blankly out the window. Other days she becomes so distraught it can take hours to finally calm her. Maybe Prim is right, somehow even in her confused state, she will stay with us long enough to help me figure out what these nightmares mean.

 

“We should try to get some sleep. We have school tomorrow.” Prim reminds me.

 

***

 

Laying my head on the pillow, I stare at the ceiling as the room falls silent and hope for a restful night’s sleep, but my mind won’t allow me the luxury. Thoughts swirl around my head like a whirlpool until everything slows down and I’m left with just one.  

 

I spring up, throwing off the sheets as I leap across the room. Quietly removing my nightshirt, I pull on yesterday’s hunting clothes before jamming my feet into leather boots. Moving over to the wash basin, I splash some water on my face then grab a brush to quickly re-braid my messy dark hair. Turning towards the door in a flurry of movement, I’m met with the surprised eyes of my half-awake sister.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to the bakery.” I state, unwilling to share the strangeness of my plan.

 

“But it’s not Sunday!”

 

“I know.” I say, still rushing about the room.

 

“Katniss? It’s the middle of the night.” She yawns.

 

“It’s okay. There’s just something...never mind. I’ll be back in a few hours, I promise.”

 

She gives me a bemused smile and shoos me out the door. I don’t waste a moment and run as fast as I can, being careful to stay in the shadows.

 

In minutes, I’m standing in the back yard of the bakery, partially hidden by the apple tree. My lungs heave as I slump against it, keeping my eyes glued to the top window...and wait.

 

It so early, whatever adrenaline rush I had starts to wane and my eyes blink slowly. Just then, I see a flicker of movement through back-lit curtains.

 

As I creep closer, my stare is fixed on a half open window. There’s no time for second thinking this and if I’m ever going to find any answers, I need to start here. Looking around wondering how I would even reach the window, I see an old trellis on the side of the bakery wall leading up to the roof, from there it’s an easy reach to the attic.

 

My tree climbing experience is about to come in handy as my left foot comes to rest on the lowest rung, testing the wood. It’s old and worn in some places, but I’m certain it will hold my weight.

 

Awkwardly spaced wood and thorny roses make it more difficult than it should be but as I heft myself up the last few feet, there’s a strange feeling that unlike my dreams, I’m going to finally reach the top and whatever lies behind that window, will be worth the climb.

 

I carefully steady my weight along the roof’s edge before leaning onto the window frame. I take a deep breath and lightly knock. Silence. I think about just climbing in but decide against it. I knock a little louder instead.

 

I hear a shocked gasp followed by stomping footsteps before the curtain is flung to the side. Standing behind the window, looking a little dazed, is a stocky, blonde boy about my age. His bewildered eyes lock on mine. His strikingly _blue_ eyes.  

 

_The same blue eyes from my dreams._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beautiful beta Shannon17 (aka sunsetsrmydreams). I am so blessed to have you as my beta but doubly blessed to have you as my friend. 
> 
> Thank you wonderful readers for supporting my story and for leaving me your comments and kudo's. I hope you enjoy this update. :)

There's a boy standing on the other side of the window, looking at me with wide eyes and a slack-jaw but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. It’s not every day a stranger climbs up the side of your house and knocks at your window, let alone being the middle of the night. Most people would use the front door.

 

_I guess I’m not most people._

 

He closes his eyes tight then opens them, blinking a few times, probably adjusting his sleepy eyes to the sight before him…or maybe to see if he’s dreaming. When he pinches himself, it’s all I can do to stop the smile forming on my lips.

 

“No, you're not dreaming.”

                          

He takes a stumbled step back when I speak, realising I’m not just a figment of his imagination. Quickly, he recovers, moving forward to slide the window up enough for me to crawl through. With shaking hands, he reaches out to help me. Without hesitation, I take them, holding on tightly as I lift one leg over the windowsill then the other. When I'm standing safely in the room, I look up to see bemused blue eyes focused intently on me.

 

“Thank you. I…umm…I…it’s quite a climb, isn’t it?” Is all I can manage to say.

 

There’s an edge of nervousness in my voice and as I shyly look down to our joined hands, a pleasant warm buzz runs through me. The feeling is soon lost the moment he releases his hands from mine to rub the back of his neck.

 

_I think I’m not the only one who’s nervous._

 

Taking a few tentative steps away from the window, I quickly glance around the room, noticing not much in the way of furniture. Besides a bed, a table lamp that sits on a used wooden crate, an old chest of drawers and a small writing table and stool, the room is very basic yet tidy. Even in this dimly lit room, it’s touched by moonbeams making it glow, giving it an almost light and airy atmosphere.

 

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow my every move. His silent stare should have me feeling uncomfortable…even a little scared, like the way Gale’s sometimes makes me feel. In contrast, this boy’s stares have the opposite effect. When I turn suddenly to face him, he quickly looks away and brings his hand up to his head and rubs the back of his neck again. I’ve only been here a few minutes, but my keen observation skills have already picked up on this nervous habit of his.

 

_What must he be thinking right now?_

 

Even though I tried to dismiss it at first, the overwhelming feeling to follow my gut instinct and come here with the hope of finding the missing puzzle pieces to my bad dreams, was too strong to ignore.  The trouble is, I never thought beyond what I would do once I got here. Now, I’m left wondering if my decision to just turn up on a whim, unannounced and most certainly uninvited, was a wise thing to do. But it’s too late to turn back now. 

 

_Still…I should’ve thought this through more._

 

I momentarily dwell on my thoughts, pondering on what to do or say next. Prompted by those exact thoughts, I break the uncomfortable silence that has settled between us and speak first.

 

“I can’t even imagine what is going through your head right now, so I guess the first question you’d want to ask me is who am I and what am I doing here, right?” I bite my thumb nail nervously waiting for him to speak.

 

He seems uneasy with himself, shifting his feet and looking about the room hesitantly. In the silence that follows, he chances a quick glance towards me then just as quick, averts his eyes to the other side of the room. Bringing his hand up to his head, he runs it through his golden curls then down to the back of his neck as a light shade of blush creeps across his face. He’s been caught staring and now his face is flushed with embarrassment as a result.

 

Never one for words, I surprise myself by rambling off the first thing that comes to mind.

 

“Okay, I guess it’s only fair that I should start first but before we get down to the introductions, I just want you to know that I don’t usually do this…you know…climb up the side of a house to visit some stranger, especially a boy, in the middle of the night…I’m not like that…if that’s what you’re thinking...because I’m not…I just need you to be clear on that…okay?”

 

_No…I’m not one for words at all._

 

He lifts his head, eyes fixed on mine and nods. Judging by his up-turned mouth, I get the instinct impression that he found my rambling statement rather amusing.

 

Satisfied that he understood my meaning and a little distracted by the dimple that formed on his left cheek when he smiled, I begin to twirl my fingers around my braid and lose my trail of thought thinking of what to say next.

 

_I need to stay focused._

“It was you in the window earlier today, wasn’t it?”

 

He nods, the smile disappearing from his lips almost instantly. Unable to explain the pang of guilt that hits me like a punch to the stomach, I realise he would have also seen my argument with Gale and…the kiss. I push that unhappy thought aside for now. Me being here is about finding a connection to my dreams and nothing to do with Gale. He is absolutely the last person I want to think about right now.

 

“At first, when I looked up and saw you I thought it was Ryan Mellark but then he called out to me from the back of the bakery, so it couldn’t have been him at all. He was a little drunk from another night out with his friends.” The last bit I say in a hushed chuckle. “When I looked back up you were gone.”

 

The boy’s face takes on an almost pained look at the mention of me seeing him for the first time today and I’m at a loss to understand why. The silence in the room is almost deafening and the hope of finally getting some answers seems to be fading with each passing minute.

 

_But I can’t leave until I do._

 

“Are you visiting? I mean…you’re obviously staying with Mr Mellark, but I’ve never seen you around before. He’s never mentioned you. Are you new to the district? How long will you be staying?”

 

Before thinking them through, I bombard him with these questions that flow freely from my mouth in quick succession. His continued silence is beginning to break my spirits and the courage I managed to muster to get me here is slowly lessening.

 

_Maybe I shouldn’t have come here._

He seems a little agitated as his eyes stray away then land back on me. He reaches his hands out to touch me but draws them away when I take a step back. It was just a knee-jerk reaction but perhaps one I should take as a sign to walk out the same way I came in before I embarrass myself further.

 

“Look, I get the message. You don’t want to talk to me. I’m sorry…this was a stupid idea and I shouldn’t have come here. You must think I’m a weirdo or something, so I’m going to leave. I’m sorry I woke you… I’ll just climb back down now and go home. I promise not to bother you again.”

 

I hear a panicked gasp as I turn and take a few steps towards the window to make my way back down the rickety trellis. There’s another muffled sound and I feel a hand gently touch my arm. He doesn’t try to grab me or pull me abruptly around to face him and I am surprised that just the simplest of touches has me instantly turning to him.

 

The boy is shaking his head and looking at me with pleading eyes and I swear they’re asking me to stay.

 

_But why won’t he just say so?_

 

He hurriedly walks to his bed and flattens the ruffled covers and fluffs the pillows then motions for me to sit on top of the hastily-made bed. I bite my bottom lip and politely tell him no, preferring to stand by the window; in case I need to make a quick get-away. Though I don’t tell him that last part.

 

The boy senses my obvious discomfort and raises both his hands in a way that tells me he wants me to wait and turns in a flurry towards the wall on the other side of the room and begins to frantically rummage around for something. In this light, it’s hard to make out what he’s looking for.

 

Hearing a lot of shuffling coming from the other side of the room, I try not let it bother me but it’s starting to get on my nerves.

 

“Just so you know, I told my sister where I was going. She’ll be waiting for me to come home soon so maybe I should go.”

 

Still rummaging in the semi-darkness, he doesn’t say anything and although I’m frustrated with his continued silence, I find myself complying with his notion to wait but decide standing in my spot by the window is my best defence. I watch him cautiously.

 

Almost immediately, my over-imaginative mind starts to fill with all kinds of horrible thoughts of him retrieving a gun or a knife, or even a chord to wrap tightly around my neck and strangle me with. With those horrid thoughts flashing before my eyes, panic sets in and I think now would be a good time to make my escape out of the window.

 

He lets out another muffled sound only this time it’s much louder and there’s an unmistakable plead to his tone, enough so that it stops me dead in my tracks.

 

I’m half expecting to be shot or stabbed at any moment, which would be my own stupid fault for not thinking things through, but even with one leg hanging over the outside edge of the windowsill, I turn my head to the desperate cry and my eyes lock on to his.

 

It’s what I don’t see that has me slowly lifting my leg back inside the room. I don’t see a gun and I don’t see a knife nor a strangle chord for that matter, what I do see piled high in his muscle-toned arms are…books. Relief washes over me as I exhale a deep breath I wasn’t aware I was holding.

 

_Books._

 

The boy doesn’t move, doesn’t try to stop me and with only the sound of his loud gasp a few seconds ago to get my attention, he remains silent.

 

_I’m such an idiot._

 

I look at him apologetically then my eyes flitter around the room trying to think of something to say. I am distracted by what I failed to notice earlier. It’s as though the moon decided at that precise moment to shine a beam of light directly behind the boy revealing a wall with makeshift shelving that is stacked floor-to-ceiling with books.

 

I shake my head, angry at myself for what I was thinking earlier and by the way he looks at me with a raised eyebrow, he must have read my thoughts.

 

_So much for my keen observational skills._

 

***

 

Like a moth to the flame, I find myself walking over to the book shelves without a single thought registering in my brain. The few steps it takes to get there, the urge to run my fingers over the stacked books is irresistible. In a moment of clarity, I turn briefly to see him watching me intently as I begin to read off some of the titles in my head.

 

_Alice in Wonderland_

_French for Beginners_

_Roses_

_FLOWERPAEDIA_

_Zoo in the Stars_

_Botanical Gardens_

_The Story of Peter Pan_

_Edible Water Plants_

 

Eventually, I come down from the book cloud I was floating on and turn around to see him standing next to me. The pile of books he gathered earlier still in his arms.

 

“This is amazing. I’ve never seen so many books in one place. Have you read them all?” I ask him quizzically.

 

He nods, proudly smiling as he looks to the book shelves.

 

“I like to read too. Would you let me borrow some of them?” I ask, my voice still shaking in bewilderment.

 

His warm smile is the only answer I need. 

 

The dark thoughts that crossed my mind moments ago are forgotten as I step away from the book shelf and make my way over to the bed and sit myself down. Looking up at the boy, I smile and tap on the lumpy mattress for him to do the same.

 

The boy’s face lights up immediately as he rushes over to sit beside me, almost tripping over his own feet but still managing to balance the books in his arms. Seeing him smile as he begins to flick through pages of a book like a young child picking out a bedtime story to read, makes my heart beat in a new and strange way and I like how it makes me feel.

 

_I also like the way he smiles._

 

“Are you planning on reading all those books to me tonight?” I jest.

 

I hear the hint of an amused snort escaping from his lips before he takes in a deep breath and shakes his head instead. He picks up one book from the pile he was carrying, flicking pages over until he finds the page he wants and brings the book up close to me and points to a word. Curious, I turn the cover over slightly enough to see the book is a dictionary.

 

‘Ask’ _a_ _verb:_ _to say something in order to obtain an answer or some information_

 

“I know what the word ‘ask’ means.” I remark, focusing back on the word.

 

He lets out a huge sigh and points to the same word a few times then flicks to another word.

 

‘Me.’

 

He repeatedly points to those two words over and over and each time I look at him with a puzzled look on my face.

 

“It’s getting late and I really don’t have time for games. Please, just tell me what you want to say.”

 

He tries again but gives up when he sees my bemused face and closes the dictionary placing it on the floor. He moves off the bed and rushes over to his writing desk and retrieves a pen and sketchbook, turning the pages over on his way back to the bed and begins to write on a fresh page.

 

‘Ask me?’

 

I stare at those two words for what seems like ages. Maybe it’s the excitement at seeing so many books in one place or knowing this boy isn’t about to kill me or maybe I’m just too tired to even think straight right now.

 

“Ask me? I’ve been asking you the same thing since I got here.”

 

There’s an edge of sadness in his eyes when I look up from the words he keeps pointing to, and in a moment of transparency, I finally understand.

 

Not one word has he spoken since I arrived. Every question asked, he has never responded to. Now, it’s clear...Now, I know why. Now…as the realisation sets in, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to me at all.

 

_It’s because he can’t._

 

“You can’t speak, can you?”

 

With watery eyes glued to mine, he lowers his head to the sketchbook and writes the word I know he’ll write even before I see it. 

 

_No._

 

***

 

In the silence that ensues, so many questions roll around my head, but I don’t want to ask them. This time, any words spoken or written for that matter between us can wait. I take his sketchbook and pen, placing it beside him and sit in the serene quietness of his room.

 

Exhaustion suddenly leaves me shaky and without thinking, I slowly lean over and rest my head on his broad shoulder. The boy straightens his back and I feel him breathe in deeply, but he soon relaxes as I reach out and smooth my fingers over his clenched hands.

 

I don’t know how long we sit there, holding hands, fingers entwined and staring into the fast approaching dawn light before I find the right words to speak. 

 

“Ever since I can remember, I’ve had bad dreams and they have been getting worse lately. I keep trying to reach out to someone but I’m being pulled back and tonight was the first time I called out to them.”

 

With my head still resting comfortably on his shoulder, the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart is so reassuring that if I sat here and listened to it long enough, I am certain it would lull me to sleep.

 

“In my dreams, I see a face, but it’s always blurred making it hard to see who it is. The only thing that isn’t blurred is their eyes….”

 

I raise my head slowly from his shoulder to look at him.

 

“Why do I always see your eyes in my dreams?”

 

His chin begins to tremble, a lone tear falling from his deep blue eyes and I instinctively reach up to wipe it away. He gives me a warm smile then goes to a page that has already been bookmarked. It’s a picture this time of children playing happily in a yard. He flicks through the dictionary again, pointing to a new word.

 

‘Friend.’

 

“You already know who I am don’t you.” I whisper.

 

He nods, swallowing hard. Taking another bookmarked page, he pauses briefly before showing me the picture. When my eyes see it, tears of my own flood down my cheeks involuntarily.

 

‘A katniss flower’… _my namesake_.

 

This time it’s the boy who gently wipes tears away from my cheeks and patiently waits for me ask another question.

 

“My dad named me after the katniss plant. My name is Katniss Everdeen.”

 

He nods and smiles warmly.

 

I gently take the book from his lap and take a good look at it. The picture reminds me of the candied katniss flower that Mr Mellark puts in the brown paper bag along with the sugar cookies Prim and Mama love so much.

 

“There’s always a candied flower just like this picture waiting for me when I trade with Mr Mellark on Sundays.”

 

He nods again and grabs another book, flicking through its pages until he finds the one he wants to show me.

 

‘A man in a baker’s hat.’

 

“Yes, Mr Mellark.” I say in response to the picture.

 

He shakes his head vigorously then points to his chest then again at the picture.

 

‘Me. Baker.’

 

“You’re a baker too? Are you trying to tell me that you make those flowers and—”

 

He nods, pointing to his chest and then the picture again.

 

“They’re so perfect and hard to resist eating but they taste just as good as they look. Thank you.”

 

His smile is all the encouragement I need to ask the next question.

 

“When I was in the bakery, I heard a noise coming from the back, but it wasn’t Ryan like Mr Mellark said. It was you, wasn’t it?”

 

The flush to his face returns as he nods.

 

“Have you been behind the bakery door every Sunday?”

 

His ‘yes’ comes as a sheepish nod.

 

It takes a moment for me to collect my thoughts and in that time, he must think my silence is a sign that our ‘conversation’ is at an end and begins to gather up the books and sketchbook beside him. But I’m not ready for it to end just yet.   

 

“Please, show me your name?”

 

He looks at me and pauses only long enough to find his pen and begins to write in clear block letters on the sketchbook until it spells out his name.

 

‘P.E.E.T.A.’

 

It’s there, written clearly in front of my eyes and I’m suddenly feeling giddy. Almost at once, I begin to laugh and cry at the same time and the boy…Peeta looks to me with a concerned look on his face unsure whether to try and console me or laugh with me. I know he doesn’t understand the significance of knowing his name, but I do, and I can’t stop myself from repeating it.

 

“Peeta. P for Peeta.” I say, tears flooding my eyes.

 

He nods and smiles sadly.

 

“I found you.”

 

***

 

Peeta listens as I tell him how my sister heard me calling out for someone in my dream and she thought I was calling out for our Papa. He gives me a pleased grin when I tell him that the moment he showed me his name, I knew it was him. 

 

“Peeta is such a beautiful name.” I sniffle, wiping my wet nose with the ends of my sleeves.

 

Peeta takes a deep breath and begins to write another word in his sketchbook.

 

‘M.E.L.L.A.R.K.’

 

“Mellark? Your last name is Mellark?” He nods.

 

“Are you related to Mr Mellark?”

 

“Peeta is my son.”

 

***

 

We both startle and turn our heads sharply to the direction of the voice and see Mr Mellark and Ryan, who’s smiling smugly, in the doorway.

 

Peeta jumps up from the bed and stands in front of me with his arms stretched out to his sides, in a seemingly shielding manner.

 

“See Pops, I’m not drunk. I told you I heard voices coming from Peet’s room.”

 

“Okay Ryan, I can see for myself. Go back downstairs and check on the bread dough. Peeta and I will be down shortly.”

 

“Sure thing. Hi Everdeen.” Ryan quickly adds.

 

With Peeta still standing in front of me, I prop my head slightly to the side and return Ryan’s greeting before he walks away.

 

With Ryan gone, Mr Mellark walks quietly into the room speaking softly and reassuringly.

 

“It’s okay Peeta, no one’s going to hurt Katniss. Ryan will keep quiet about this.” 

 

Peeta shakes his head and keeps his guarded stance in front of me watching the doorway as if expecting someone else to come barging in.

 

“You don’t have to worry about Agnes, she’s still passed out in her room. She can’t hurt you or Katniss.”

 

_Hurt me or Peeta? His own mother?_

 

Mr Mellark continues. “It’s already 4:30am and you’re late making a start on Mrs Larson’s birthday cake. I know you want Katniss to stay but you’re needed in the bakery now and I think Katniss should be getting home before she’s missed.”

 

Peeta turns to me with a hesitant look on his face. He doesn’t want me to go and there’s still so much I want to ask him, but those questions will have to wait another day. Me being here was unexpected and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.

 

Rising from the bed, I gently tug at his hand and tell him that I should be getting home anyway because I have school in a few hours and Prim will be worried if she wakes and finds me not in my bed. He squeezes my hand softly to let me know he understands.

 

With that settled, Mr Mellark walks to the window and leans his head over the windowsill.

 

“Did you actually climb up that old trellis?” He asks, turning away from the window.

 

I nod, and he looks at me astonished.

 

“It’s nice to know you haven’t outgrown your adventurous spirit.” He laughs. “Something tells me I may need to make some quick repairs to that trellis, but until I do, I think you should leave by the front door.”

 

I agree but a nagging question hangs over my head.

 

“There’s something I don’t understand. Why would Peeta’s mother want to hurt him or me for that matter? I’ve never even met Mrs Mellark.” I ask blindly.

 

“Agnes is not Peeta’s mother. His mother’s name was Flora and she died when he was 2 years old.”

 

Lost for words, I say nothing.

 

“It’s a long and complicated story one which we’ll need time to talk about Katniss, but it’s one I’d like to share with your mother present, no matter what state her mind is in. It would be the right thing to do and I had plans to try and visit her this Sunday. Even if I must break down your front door, I won’t allow your neighbour or your boyfriend to stop me from seeing Lydia this time.”

 

“Gale is not my boyfriend!” I exclaim.

 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, and by the look on Peeta’s face, he is too.”

 

I turn to look at Peeta and repeat my words. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

 

“I want nothing more than to hear why he thinks you are his girlfriend and hinted a wedding was imminent but sadly, it will have to wait. I can’t trust Ryan by himself for too long in the bakery and Peeta has orders to fill but I have a feeling this won’t be your last visit here.”

 

Mr Mellark is right. I have already made up my mind to return after supper. My connection with Peeta is far too strong. Besides Prim, no one knows about the Hawthorne’s claim of a marriage agreement. Perhaps it would be good to tell someone else. On that thought, I’m suddenly eager to tell him but know it must wait.

 

We all leave the attic and head downstairs to the bakery. Standing by the doorway, Mr Mellark leaves us alone to say our goodbyes when Peeta suddenly urges me to stay where I am and rushes back up the steps. I look to Mr Mellark and Ryan who are just as confused as I am. When he returns moments later panting softly, I see a book clutched firmly in his hands.

 

_“Would you let me borrow some of them?”_

 

He steps closer to me and offers the book. With it safely in my hands, I look at the cover to see what he’s chosen for me to read. 

 

_The Knot Tying Bible_

 

I try not to chuckle at Peeta’s book selection. In his haste, he must have grabbed the first book that came to hand, although learning how to tie knots is not something I would normally find interesting. I will enjoy reading it nonetheless, because he chose it…for me.

 

I look up into his breathless and blushing face, hoping that my wide grin reassures him of my return.

 

“I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has become harder with each new chapter, but I thank my lucky stars for shannon17. Thank you beautiful person for being my beta. :)

Stepping out of the bakery, there is a noticeable change in the wind this morning. In the dawn light, I can see the grass is covered in a fresh layer of morning dew, an indication the warm days and nights are almost at an end and will soon make way for the approaching autumn weather.

 

Breathing in the fresh, crisp morning air, I make sure the book Peeta gave me is tucked safely under my shirt before taking a couple of brisk steps away from the bakery in the direction of home.

 

I glance over my shoulder and even from this short distance, there’s a pained, almost desperate look on his face. He must know that I have every intention of returning later tonight. I told him so, but he stays put and watches me walk towards the Seam.

 

Stopping at the apple tree, I turn to wave at Peeta who hasn’t moved from the opened doorway. It bothers me that he might think I could go back on my word and not return like I promised. But I notice something strange as I watch him.

 

With eyes clenched shut, Peeta straightens his back, takes in a deep breath and looks as though he’s counting in his head. His form is rigid, shoulders high and tense, hands fisted tightly as he moves forward to step outside. He stops short, like an invisible wall is blocking his path. Peeta does this several times before giving up, frustratedly raising his fists to punch both sides of the wooden door frame before hanging his head in defeat.

 

But when he looks up and sees me silently watching by the tree, the anger on his face is quickly replaced with a forced smile and a nod, reassuring me that everything is okay. Peeta waves a quick goodbye and backs inside, the door shutting with a soft click.

_What made him stop?_

 

Peeta had pointed to the word ‘friend’ when he described how he knew me which would in many ways, explain the connection I have with him, but it’s deeper than that…I feel it.

 

We have so much catching up to do and it will take time to get to know each other again, yet I can’t help feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t follow me out the door and walk me to the apple tree at least. I half-expected and secretly hoped he would. If only so I could hold his hand tightly to reassure him of my return.

 

For just a moment, I am engulfed with sadness so heavy it makes me shudder. We’ve been here before…him and I, and I can almost feel the hand gripping tightly onto mine forcing me away as I watch Peeta fade in the distance. I quickly snap out of that memory and turn to head back home more determined than ever.

 

_I won’t let anyone separate us again!_

***

 

Running all the way home, my entire body tingles with excitement. The kind of excitement I always feel when I walk into the woods on my own and go to my special spot by the lake. I’ve never taken anyone there, especially not Gale.

 

I love sitting under a shade tree to read or just enjoy feeling the warm summer breeze against my skin. Lately, those alone moments have become increasingly rare, but I still remember the happy and contented feeling. Being with Peeta, even for the briefest of moments, has the same effect and I can’t wait for the day I take him to my favourite place in the world.

 

***

 

Creeping back into the house, I remove my boots and slowly tip-toe my way into the bedroom I share with Prim, being extra careful not to wake her or Mama who sleeps in the room next to ours. The door creaks as I slowly open it and walk as quietly as I can towards my bed but her hushed, yet anxious voice startles me, and I let out a yelp in surprise.

 

“Katniss!” She hisses.

 

“You scared me half to death.” I say in a loud whisper, clutching my chest in mock pain.

 

“You said you’d only be gone a few hours. It’s almost 6 am. I was so worried when I woke up and you weren’t in your bed. What have you been doing all this time?”

 

_Look who’s acting like a big sister._

 

When Prim sees the smile on my face, she calms down a little and waits for me to answer her. There’s no point in trying to get to sleep now, I’ll have to be up in an hour to get ready for school and help Prim wash and change Mama before Hazelle arrives. Besides, with everything that’s happened, I don’t think I could sleep, even if I tried.

 

I remove my jacket and hang it over the chair and lift my shirt to grab Peeta’s book, holding it close to my chest and sit crossed-legged on the foot of her bed. 

 

“Oh Prim, I found him. He had the same blue eyes as those in my dreams and when I climbed up to his window and saw him for the first time, I knew it was him.”

 

I hadn’t realised how tightly I was holding onto the book when I look at Prim and see her eyes focused on my hands.

 

“Him? Who’s him? And I didn’t realise you took a book with you on your way to the bakery.”

  
I shake my head and try to take a few deep breaths and calm my exuberance before explaining myself to a confused and curious Prim.

 

“No silly. This is Peeta’s book. He gave it to me to read. His name is Peeta Mellark and he’s Mr Mellark’s son and—”

 

The sound of a loud thump then a muffled cry coming from Mama’s room has us both jumping up to our feet and rushing out the door and into her bedroom.  

 

We find our mother on the floor, crawling around in a dazed and confused state, crying and mumbling to herself. Prim is the first to reach her and immediately goes into healer mode to check for any injuries she might have sustained. She breathes a sigh of relief when she finds none.

 

“Help me get her back into bed.” Prim commands.

 

I remember Mama being so pretty and full of life before Papa died. Since his death, Prim and I have watched her wither away, her once fair and lovely form fading into an empty husk. In her weak and frail condition, it’s not at all surprising that we can lift her without too much effort.

 

When I kneel beside her, Mama grabs a firm hold of my arm and looks at me with fear in her eyes.

 

“Tea!” She mutters loudly.

 

Prim catches my eyes as we lift Mama gently into bed. It’s not the first time she’s said this but the look of terror in her eyes is new. I try to make her as comfortable as possible while Prim rushes to make Mama some tea and as I tuck the blanket around our mother, I notice how animated she is this morning.

 

_I could ask a question or two... maybe I'll even get an answer._

“Mama, I need to talk to you. It’s really important.” I place my hand over hers, but she continues to mumble.

 

“Tea…night…coming with night.”

 

“Yes Mama. Prim is making you breakfast with tea, but I need you to listen.”

 

“Tea!” She exclaims again through gritted teeth.

 

I am a little puzzled by her insistence with tea but get distracted by the muffled voices coming from the kitchen. Recognising the second voice instantly, it seems Hazelle has arrived early and is helping Prim make Mama’s breakfast. We still need to get her bathed and dressed for the day before we go to school so there’s not much time. I need her to focus. 

“Please listen to me Mama. Mr Mellark is coming to visit you. He says you were friends a long time ago.”

 

She stops her rambling almost at once and looks to me with tears in her eyes.

 

“Jacob? He’s coming?”

 

I’ve never referred to Mr Mellark by his first name but her face changes at the mention.

 

“Yes, Jacob Mellark is coming to see you. I met his son Peeta last night, do you remember him?”

 

Mama nods then begins to sob. “Golden child.”

 

Golden child? Peeta? Peeta’s golden locks? It must be. Another missing piece of the puzzle slowly coming together.

 

“Peeta is the golden child, isn’t he?” I question, fully anticipating the answer.

 

“Peeta! Jacob! I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” She cries.

 

“What are you sorry about?”

 

“Shshsh. The witch…coming with night. Night…night…night…coming with night.” She repeats her cryptic mantra.

 

“Mama, you’re scaring me…who’s the witch?” I whisper.

 

Her hands start to twitch in mine, and her breathing has become a little rapid. Have I pushed her too far…expected too much? I give her a gentle squeeze and tell her that everything is going to be okay but with a resolute look on her face, she pulls at me to come closer and speaks in an urgent tone.

 

“Tell Jacob Mocking—” She stops short with a gasp as her bedroom door opens.

 

“Good morning Mama, I’ve made you some toast with home-made jam.”

 

Prim walks in first with a cheerful smile carefully carrying the breakfast tray, Hazelle following a few seconds later with a cup of warmed tea in her hand.

 

“What’s all this nonsense I hear about you falling out of bed and making a fuss?” Hazelle questions as she enters the room, her dark eyes fixed on my mother.

 

Mama’s firm grip on my hand tightens like a vice as Hazelle walks towards the bed and I can feel her whole-body tremble as we both watch our neighbour come closer, being careful not to spill a drop of tea.

 

_Something doesn’t feel right._

 

“Come now Lydia, I’ve made you a nice cup of tea just the way you like it. I’ll just sit by your bed and keep you company. Drink your tea and eat your breakfast before everything gets cold and we can have a nice little chat while the girls get ready for school.”

 

I don’t know what it is, but I’m a little unsettled by the way Mama is reacting. We’ve been slowly decreasing her medication dosage as Dr Raphael suggested after he consulted with District 12’s first and newly-commissioned psychiatrist. The aim is to eventually wean her off medication and begin daily therapy sessions.

 

We were warned to expect possible side-effects resulting in the lower dosages and perhaps that’s all it is…a side-effect. Still, I resolve myself to see the doctor later today and ask him if he could come around and check on her just the same.

_I just won’t tell Hazelle of my plan._

 

“Maybe I should stay home and look after Mama today and—” I start to suggest but I’m quickly cut off by Hazelle’s disapproving tone.

 

“I won’t hear of it! You can’t miss a day of school, not when you’ll be graduating soon. You will have plenty of time to stay at home when you marry Gale.”

 

This time it is me who grips Mama’s hand tightly. Hazelle again, not wasting an opportunity to remind me of Papa’s verbal agreement.

 

“There’s no need for either of you to stay at home today. That’s why I’m here…to look after your mother. Isn’t that right Lydia?”

 

Mama’s body tenses but she doesn’t utter a word in response or protest as Hazelle hands her the cup and watches intently as Mama takes her first sip.

 

“That’s right. Drink up. It will make you feel so much better.”

 

Hazelle smiles. She seems pleased with herself and turns her attention to Prim and I for a moment to insist that we ready ourselves for school. The excitement and joy I felt on my way home earlier this morning has been stripped away. Reluctantly, Prim and I say goodbye to Mama and wish her a good day, then walk out of the room.

 

***

 

When I get to school, I can’t help noticing the stares and whispers which seem to be directed at me, coming from fellow students in each of my classes. I try desperately to ignore them but it’s getting harder as the morning rolls by.

 

The lunch bell rings and I hurry to pack my school books in my bag and head towards my usual bench away from everyone to read Peeta’s book. I even brought some knitting yarn to practice tying knots, so I can show him what I’ve learned.

 

Engrossed in perfecting a reef knot, I get a strange feeling that I’m being watched. When I look up, my eyes find a girl sitting alone on a bench a few metres away staring at me.

 

I don’t recognise her at first and then I remember she’s the Station Master’s daughter, but her name escapes me. She stands and straightens her dress and I think she’s about to walk over to me when I hear my name being called.

 

_What do I have to do to get some privacy around here?_

 

“There you are Katniss. I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” My friend Madge says in a relieved tone.

 

Madge sits beside me and starts talking about a party she wants us to go to and how there’s going to be older boys there, but I zone out. She moves onto another subject, but I’m still not paying much attention as I watch the Station Master’s daughter slowly walk away.

 

_Strange._

 

“So, is it true?” Madge tugs at my shoulders, distracting me.

 

“Is what true?”

 

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. Have you?” She sounds annoyed. “You are the talk of the whole school, Katniss. Rumour has it you're engaged to tall, dark and devilishly handsome Gale Hawthorne. And I had to hear it from Ida Fields…of all people!”

 

_What?_

 

Now I understand the stares and whispers, I need to stop this now before it gets out of hand. Prim was right, I need to find my voice and tell Gale…and Hazelle that I don’t care about whatever promises Papa may have made. I will not be forced to marry Gale or anyone else for that matter.

 

“Well, you and Ida Fields heard wrong! Gale is not my fiancé or boyfriend! He’s my friend and neighbour and that’s it!” I state angrily.

 

“Hey, I didn’t start the rumour. I’m here for the facts. But I must admit, it’s a huge relief. He has quite a reputation you know.” Madge says but refuses to elaborate and I return her silence.

 

“Are you going to tell me what the heck is going on?” She finally bursts.

 

I’ve known Madge for a long time and she knows I wouldn’t lie to her, but I haven’t been completely honest either. Between the Hawthorne’s and that stupid agreement, I am starting to wear thin. I’ve been hoping it would just simply go away but now I see it won’t. This is becoming more than I can handle on my own, maybe it is time to reach out and ask for help.

 

I close Peeta’s book making sure to bookmark it with a strand of knitting yarn and pack it away in my bag. Madge waits for me to explain but the bell rings telling us that lunch has ended and we need to get to our next class.

 

_Sharing my problem will have to wait._

 

***

 

“Thank you for stopping by Dr Raphael. We’ve been so worried about Mama especially after this morning.”

 

Prim and I take turns at the Apothecary after school to help Mrs Raphael close the store. It was my turn today and I waited for a lull in customers before telling her what happened to Mama. She saw the worried look on my face and was quick to act and had Dr Raphael visit after supper to check on her.

 

“You did the right thing. I haven’t been able to give your mother a full examination for a few months now. I expected Lydia to become a little disorientated but that should have eased by now. But don’t worry unnecessarily, I’ll have these blood samples rushed through and let you know the results as soon as they come in. In the meantime, keep a close watch on her and make sure she eats well and drinks plenty of fluids. If there are any more episodes like this morning. Come find me, no matter what time of the day or night it is.”

 

Prim and I nod and thank the doctor for his time and walk him to the door, confident if an underlying medical condition exists with my mother, he will find it.

 

I return to Mama’s room to check on her one more time before I leave her in Prim’s care. I’m eager to see Peeta again but reluctant to leave them at the same time. She didn’t respond to any of the doctor’s questions or flinch as he took samples of blood for testing, just sat staring blankly out the window.

 

“You should go. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Prim assures me.  

 

I chew on my thumb nail and hesitate for a moment. It’s late and I should have left a couple of hours ago. Maybe it would be best if I stay home with Prim, but I promised Peeta I would return, and I don’t want to go back on my word.

 

“It’s okay Katniss. The doctor gave Mama a light sedative to help her sleep. I’ll just remember not to worry so much when I wake and find you not in your bed.”

 

My baby sister wise beyond her years, can sense how torn I am. I want to stay and help but the need to see Peeta is overwhelming.

 

“Thank you.”

 

I kiss them both goodnight and head out into the night and to Peeta.


	7. (for Joanna)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of past child abuse. 
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be all Everlark but after discussions with my beta (shannon17), I went off track a bit. But I think once you read it, you'll understand why I did...I hope. :)
> 
> Thank you to shannon17 for her great beta skills (and much patience) and making a banner to go with this story. She's an absolute gem!

This chapter is dedicated to Joanna.

**~Ryan Mellark~**

  _I really need to start knocking on his door before barging in._

 

It’s my first thought as I look towards the two blissfully sleeping forms cuddled together on his mattress. They both look so peaceful, seemingly without a care in the world and I almost feel sorry to wake them. But Pops needs Peeta in the bakery kitchen to start on today’s cake orders so, here I am. I’ve also been told to bring our resident climber down for breakfast too before she makes her way home.

 

_I should remind Pops to look at fixing that old trellis._

 

A quick glance around the room shows books of all descriptions strewn around the wooden floor boards. Pages lay flat, opened and many are tagged with Peeta’s bookmarks. I’m impressed at how quick she was to pick up his unique way of communicating and it looks as though they had a pretty long conversation last night by the unusual clutter that is now Peeta’s room.

 

There’s a chill in the air from the window he always likes to leave slightly open at night. I remember how he showed me once that it helps him sleep better, even so, I wonder how they don’t feel the cold. But then I see how Peeta has his arms wrapped protectively around _his girl_ , keeping her warm from the cold night air and safe while she sleeps.

 

_‘His girl.’ Yeah, that’s what she’s always been._

 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Peeta, it’s he protects the ones he loves, and I know only too well how important that is and just how much she means to him. He’s been trying so hard these last few months to break free from the invisible chains that keep him locked away from the world. That’s why I’ve kept the promise I made to him a long time ago. To watch over her and keep her safe until he can do it himself.

 

I take a couple of quiet steps towards the bed, remembering that Pops is waiting for us to come downstairs and have a quick breakfast before we start the baking day and more importantly…before Mother rises from her drunken slumber.

 

There’s no denying it, Peeta is the backbone of this bakery. Even Pops knows it and I hate how the rest of District 12 think it’s me in the kitchen creating those amazing works of art. I’m planning to change all that.

 

Truth is, I missed out on the famous Mellark baking blood and after many failed baking attempts of my own and a kitchen fire mishap which thankfully, was extinguished before any real damage was done. I’m just a klutzy around the bakery kitchen and the reason why I made a list of reasons _‘why Ryan should never be left in the bakery alone’_.

 

Pops, forever patient, took it in his stride and agreed it was safe for all concerned that I be relegated to just pre-mixing the bread dough and I have to say, I’ve become an expert at it. I enjoy using my killer-charm to serve our customers, especially those of the female persuasion. Practicing my special talent at charming the ladies…and their lovely, single daughters is not a bad trade-off and it’s good for business.

 

_Well, that’s what I tell Pops._

 

I reel my mind back on track and notice an opened page from his sketchpad laid out to the side of the bed and even from where I stand, it’s clear who the drawing of a girl with long flowing hair is. Peeta must have sketched her while she slept.

 

Stepping closer, my eyes are drawn to the small, worn book poking out from underneath Peeta’s pillow and I hold my breath, recognising it immediately. The last time I saw it was the turning point for me and I will never forget how something as innocent as this old children’s book made me realise what a hateful, selfish prick I had become…thanks to my mother.

 

_The book was his only link to her, and Peeta kept it safe._

 

***

_“I could be enjoying myself at Thom Horden’s party right now but instead I’m here.” I begin to argue._

_“They’ll be plenty of other parties for you to attend but for now, you need to start learning all there is to know about owning this bakery and that includes baking from scratch.” My mother responds flatly._

_“I hate this bakery and I don’t know why you’re making me work back here, especially with that freak!” I point my finger angrily to the silent figure working away at the kitchen bench._

 

_She rubs her temples in frustration. The headaches have become more frequent, but I couldn’t care less. “Because one day, this bakery you hate so much, will by yours and I’m going to make damn sure nothing stands in the way! You’ll just have to grin and bear it and work with your father’s bastard until I can throw him out in the gutter where he belongs. For now, start with those cookies like he showed you and don’t make any noise…I have a blinding headache!”_

_She goes on about showing ‘them’ and making ‘them’ all pay and the need to take a nap because of how tired she is, reminding us again not to make any noise. But I turn my head away from the constant nagging as the waft of mint mouthwash she uses to mask her alcohol breath, turns my stomach._

 

_My eyes dart to the mute who has kept his head down the whole time, busily working on the cookie dough. The wimp is too afraid to look at us and I hate him even more for it._

_Finally, mother leaves to do what she normally does around this time of day, locking herself from the rest of the world to drown her sorrows. The freak watches her shuffle out of the bakery kitchen from the corner of those stupid blue eyes of his and when she’s out of sight, quickly adjusts that even more stupid book I know he keeps tucked under his shirt._

_Mother made sure those Seam trash folks never came back here and it’s been years since they left that book behind, but he still carries it everywhere, even when he’s down here. I swear, one of these days I’m going to tackle him to the floor and grab it from him and throw it in the ovens just to watch his face as it burns to ashes. That will teach him a lesson!_

_Father walks in from the back door to grab the rest of the bread packages for this morning’s deliveries. If you ask me, I think he waited for Mother to leave before coming back in to make sure I’m down here busy rolling out stupid cookie mixture he made earlier on baking trays. I heard them argue again last night. Mother insisted I was ready to start using the ovens, but he refused to let me near them. “He’s not ready…He’s too careless.” It suits me just fine. I don’t want to be a baker anyway and the less time I’m forced to spend here, the better._

_“It’s good to finally see you working alongside your brother Ryan.”_

_“You mean your bast—” I begin to hiss._

_“That’s enough Ryan! I never want to hear you say that word about Peeta again! Do I make myself clear?”_

_“I don’t have to listen to you!” I retort._

_“Have I made myself clear Ryan?” Father’s tone becomes raised as he looks at me sternly._

_“Yes sir!” I shout back, saluting him mockingly in a show of defiance._

_“We’ve spoken about this before and I won’t have you repeating your mother’s scornful words. When I get back from my deliveries, you and I are going to have another serious talk so right now, I need you to work with Peeta and that means no fighting!”_

_Father gathers the packages and places them in the woven basket before walking over to Peeta, ruffling his stupid blonde curls playfully, bringing a smile to the freak’s face. He comes towards me to do the same, but I jerk my head back. I hear him sigh._

_“I won’t be gone long.” He says to us, but I don’t bother to look at him._

_I hate them both._

_We don’t talk; not in that stupid way he communicates. The atmosphere is thick and uneasy, but I figure the quicker I get this over and done with, the quicker I can get out of here and go to Thom’s party. Realising we don’t have enough trays, I order the freak to grab more from the top shelf but not only is he a mute, he is also vertically challenged. I guess I’ll have to go and get them myself._

_I see it before I can react, as I try to reach for the rack of heavy trays when they start crashing down on top of me. I cover my head in the first instance but feel my body being shoved away from the calamity. It was him…he pushed me away just as the rest of the trays fell to the floor. We both look at each other stunned but that moment passes as we scramble to gather up the trays. It seems the more we try to be quiet, the more noise we make and inevitably, Mother’s high-pitched yelling and heavy footsteps alert us that she’s on her way down here._

_“You are a worthless piece of trash! Just like your mother!” She shouts before slapping the back of his head._

_“You did this on purpose, you gutter rat!” Her hand continues to strike at him._

_He covers his head with his hands, but Mother doesn’t stop hitting him. I don’t know why, but without thinking, I take a step towards her and she turns swiftly. For the first time in my life, I feel the sting of her hand on my face, but it doesn’t deter her. She’s drunk and raises her hand again as I wait for the next sharp sting. Before she can lay another blow to my face, the freak forces himself between us and pushes her back...hard._

_“You bastard! How dare you touch me!” She slurs._

_She strikes his face…this time with a clenched fist, causing his bottom lip to bleed and in that moment, I’m numb. He pushed me out of the way when the trays began to fall and now he stepped in front of me to stop Mother from hitting me again. She’s beating him, and I don’t know what to do. Something inside me snaps. I can’t let her do this._

_“Stop it!” I yell but she continues to strike at him._

_“Mother…stop!”_

_Peeta tries to move away from the beating, but she grabs him by the shirt causing the book he had safely tucked away, fall to the floor. She sees it and swoops it up in her hand raising it high in the air, so he can’t reach it._

_“I worked hard to be finally rid of your father’s seam trash friend and her daughter. Thought I erased every stitch of them... seems I was wrong.” She grins and the look of satisfaction on her face sickens me._

_I hear him whimper, not because of his bloodied and swollen lip but because he is desperate to reach for the book Mother holds triumphantly in her hand._

_“This will teach you to touch me.”_

_In her vengeful, drunken state, Mother manages to crumple the softcover book into a ball and throw it in the oven, slamming the cast iron hatch shut. It’s over in seconds and I just stand there, helplessly watching it all unfold before my eyes._

_“Consider yourself lucky the ovens aren’t lit. It would’ve given me so much pleasure to watch it burn.” Her laughter can be heard from the other side of the door as she makes her way back to her room._

_I can feel my heart beat fast as I struggle to keep my breathing in check. How many times did I turn a blind eye to the bruises on his arms and legs? Although he would cover them with my hand-me-down clothes, I knew he didn’t get them from falling or bumping into furniture like Mother would always suggest. This was the first time I’d witnessed first-hand, the ferociousness of her beatings. Now…there’s something inside me saying this was never okay. I rub my face, still feeling the sting from her slap, but I push the pain aside._

_“You could’ve let her hit me. You didn’t have to take a beating for me. Why did you?” I ask, surprised by the soft tone of my voice._

_He looks at me with tears forming in his eyes as if I should already know the answer. He wipes the blood from his swollen lips with the end of his torn sleeve and slowly walks over to the flour barrel grabbing a fistful of flour to smooth over the work bench and writes one word…_

_BROTHER_

_***_

_Quickly retrieving the book from the oven, he brushes the cold ash from its cover, gently flattening and folding in a few torn pages before tucking it away under his shirt. He turns to start gathering up the trays from the floor and without a second thought, I help him._

 

_We work silently together to clean the bakery kitchen as best we can and it’s not long before Father returns from his deliveries. When he enters from the back door and sees our faces and the marks still visible from Mother’s attack, he sees red._

_“Ryan…Peeta?”_

_“It’s all my fault. I didn’t mean for the trays to fall down…” I begin to tell him, but he doesn’t need to listen further before rushing out of the room in a fit of anger. The sound of father breaking down her bedroom door and the shouting that followed, is deafening._

 

_The need to attend a friend’s party no longer a desire or priority. “Maybe we should go to our rooms until Father comes for us.” I say to him._

_He only nods wrapping his arms around his waist and the book he tried to keep hidden. We walk silently, side-by-side up the stairs to our rooms._

_***_

_My hands cover my ears trying to muffle the shouting but it’s no use. So, I try to think of something to drown out the noise. My mind turns back to earlier in the bakery kitchen. ‘Brother’…he wrote ‘brother’. Rummaging through my desk, I find what I’m looking for and sneak out of my room and head up to the attic._

_It’s been quiet for a while. When Father finally comes up to the little attic room, he sees us both sitting on the floor working on our little project. He walks over to us and sits at the foot of the bed. A mixture of surprise and wariness is apparent on his face._

_“Ryan, what are you doing up here?”_

_“It’s okay Father, I brought some tape to fix the fre- Peeta’s book.” I turn my attention back to the page I am carefully taping. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch their identical smiles and I feel one widen on my face in return._

 

***

 

After that day, things were different. I saw my mother for who she really was. A bitter woman who manipulated people through her hatred, using it for her own gain. And after that day, I made two promises to Peeta. The first was Mother would never lay a hand on him again…not while I was around. The second meant more to him than I could ever imagine. It doesn’t stop the guilt I will always carry with me. My past treatment towards him will be my own cross to bear, but it leaves me more determined to make up for all those horrible things I did and said.

 

_It’s my chance at redemption._

 

I wipe away a tear that threatens to roll down my cheek, staying focused on the book. In that moment, I decide to make good on the first thought I had when I first barged in here. So, I silently walk out of Peeta’s room and close the door, wait a second or two before knocking loudly then enter, making my presence known.

 

_Well, I knocked first, didn’t I?_

 

“Rise and shine Peeta. We’ve got a big, big day with bakery orders to fill.” I say with a huge grin, watching the flurry of activity.

 

Peeta quickly releases his hold on her and springs up in bed with a blush on his face so obvious, it makes the coming sunrise look lame. I try to suppress a laugh when the bed sheet is hastily drawn over to cover the petite body that laid tangled next to him just a few moments ago. Except for the tips of her fingers tightly holding the sheet over her face, she’s completely hidden.

 

“Come on people, we’re wasting daylight.” I send a cheeky wink over to Peeta who sits there stunned and opened-mouthed.

 

Grabbing a hold of the door knob, I turn towards the silent body still hiding under the bed sheets.

 

“Morning Everdeen, breakfast is ready.” I say, waiting for her reply.

 

“Good morning Ryan.”

 

I shut the door and softly place my ear to the wall. The sound of sheets ruffling, feet shuffling and Everdeen’s panicked whispers, brings a smile to my face. _Worth it_. I think to myself. And then another thought crosses my mind, one that will need my special expertise. 

 

 _Me and little brother are going to have ‘that’ talk._ I smile devilishly.

This is going to be fun.


End file.
